


Winter's Monarchs

by WordStorm



Category: Captain America (Movies), Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bonding, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Gen, Kinda, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Not Thor: The Dark World Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rated For Violence, Red Room (Marvel), Slow Burn, not comic compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2018-08-18 23:31:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 52,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8179889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordStorm/pseuds/WordStorm
Summary: Before the Winter Soldier could perform any missions, he had to be trained. This job was taken by one of the Red Room's best and strangest operatives, known as the Ice Queen. A graduate of the Black Widow program, though not a Widow herself, she was...extremely unique, and very, very dangerous.The Winter Soldier and the Ice Queen, one HYDRA-stolen, the other Red Room-raised. She was one of their best operatives; he needed training. She for one, did not expect her magic and inner wolf to react as they did…nor her emotions, for that matter.Also at https://wintersmonarchs.tumblr.com and https://winterqueennconsort.deviantart.com/





	1. Chapter 1

She was just coming back from a mission when they brought him in. The first thing she noticed was the scent floating through the air, detectable only by her. She  _had_ to find the source. So she followed it to the medbay and peeked through a window.

Lying on a cot, unconscious, was a strange man, dark-haired and handsome-faced, lacking most of his left arm. He had not been changed into any form of hospital-wear, so the woman admired his dark-blue jacket for a little bit before continuing her study of him on a whole. Judging by his size compared with the cot he was on, the strange man was approximately six feet tall, perhaps a little less. He was a soldier of some sort, and for some reason she had a feeling that he was American.

She heard her name being called, and she looked up to see her mission-partner and the only person she could consider to be even sort-of a friend beckoning her and reminding her that they needed to get cleaned up. She did not look back at the mysterious man in the medbay as she jogged lightly to catch up with her partner.

 

* * *

 

 

When Bucky awoke, all he could see was white, but not the white that he had expected. No, it was the white of some kind of medical facility, judging by the smells and the feeling of a cot beneath him. He tried to sit up, but could not…he was restrained…and he felt numb. Wait a minute…something was off. He tried to move his left arm, and his eyes went wide when he felt nothing whatsoever instead of the vague feeling he got when he moved any of his other limbs.

Realisation and remembrance crashed over the dark-haired man with all the subtlety of a freight train, and he started to panic. Where was he? Who had him? Why was he there? How was he even alive? He pulled against the restraints with all his strength, but they did not even move, much less break.

There was movement to his left, and he turned his head to see a few unfamiliar faces in doctor’s uniforms setting up…something. He tried to look, but their bodies were in the way.

One of the doctors on the other side of the…thing that they were working on noticed that Bucky was awake, and walked over. Bucky tried to speak, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate. The doctor gave him an unreadable glance as he prepared a needle.

Bucky tried to wriggle away, but his limbs still weren’t responding properly, and the doctor injected him with whatever was in the needle. Immediately, he felt as if a weight was pressing down on him…he was tired, he just wanted to go back to sleep…no he didn’t…yes he did…

Everything went dark as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

 

She heard the screams in the middle of a sparring session. How odd that whatever was happening was not in one of the usual soundproof rooms. Dropping her opponent on his head, she walked on silent feet to the medbay, where the screams originated. Ah, that’s why. A medical procedure.

She stood like a statue as she watched Dr. Zola, one of HYDRA’s scientists, cutting a good chunk of the clearly-awake and tightly-restrained American’s remaining left arm off. Hmm. What was the purpose of that, she wondered? Her question was answered when she saw an impressively-designed prosthetic arm lying on a nearby table, clearly of HYDRA design. Now why was one of HYDRA’s in the Red Room? Perhaps she would ask Sir when she got her next mission.

Her brows furrowed faintly as Zola started to cut through the bone of the American’s arm, and the American screamed louder. Something bothered her about those screams…she wanted to make them stop. Why? That was odd. Perhaps something in the explosion from her last mission got in her ear and was messing up her hearing.

A moment later, the screams did stop as the dark-haired American passed out from the pain. Her face cleared back to its previous lack of expression, and she left the window. She would ask Sir if she had another mission, and if not she would practice. Neither she nor her partner could tell when Madame was going to make a visit.

 

* * *

 

 

At least a fortnight after Zola cut off the majority of the remainder of his left arm, Bucky awoke to find himself…in the exact same place he had been the last time he had woken up. Except this time, he was not as tightly restrained, and he did not feel nearly as sluggish. He looked at where the stump of his left arm had been…and found it wasn’t a stump anymore. Rather, he had a whole left arm, made completely of metal.

He raised his hands a little, flexing his new left one. One of the scientists, not any of the ones from before, but that Bucky recognised as one of Zola’s assistants from Azzano, leaned over him and started to speak…probably to explain Bucky’s new limb. A powerful rage coursed through Bucky within a second, and he grabbed the scientist’s throat with his new hand, crushing it easily.

A different scientist, another of Zola’s assistants, appeared at Bucky’s other side and tried to inject him with something, but he punched the other man in the head, sending him to the floor unconscious. More scientists and a few guards surrounded him and tried to restrain him, but he was quick enough to kill or knock out all of them.

Bucky pulled out the IVs that were in him, wincing a little, and stood, looking around the room. It was a medbay, like he had assumed. Very official-looking, and quite big.

His gaze landed on the cot next to where he had been laying, upon which sat a woman. She was pale-gold hair in a severe braid out of an angular face with striking blue eyes, and a body all lean muscle clad only in a black tank top and pants…no shoes?  Shoes or not, she was beautiful…but most likely the enemy.

She looked at him, and spoke with a fairly heavy Russian accent. “Hello, American.”

He grabbed a gun from one of the guards and pointed it at her as fast as he could, though she made no other movement. “Who are you!?”

Her smile was small, hard, and empty. “No-one.”

His brows furrowed, stance wavering a bit. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I am no-one…who are you?”

“Why should I tell you? You’re the enemy.”

“From what I hear, you are going to be here for some time. Best to not just call you American.”

“Well, I’m not staying.”

Bucky turned the gun to the windows of the medbay and shot them out.

The woman stood, almost as tall as he was. “You can’t escape.”

“Watch me.” He grabbed a chair and threw it, breaking the glass.

In an instant, he was pinned to the ground, the woman on top holding him down. He blinked, for a moment not sure that was actually happening, then he knocked her off and started running for the doors. She tackled him again, and he fell, the gun sliding along the floor.

He tried to turn over and grab for her neck, but she pinned his arms down, sitting firmly on his waist.

The panels of his new metal arm whirred as just that one broke her hold and rolled them over, using his greater weight to his advantage once more. His metal hand wrapped hard around her throat, and she gasped and choked…but there was an odd little glint to her breath-taking eyes.  He tightened his grip, and she grabbed at his arm.

Bucky almost paused. …he shouldn’t be doing this…but she was the enemy…she was a woman, enemy or no; he shouldn’t kill her.

Her other hand tried to grip his sleeve, then fell limp as her eyes rolled back and closed.

His face fell, and he pulled back to check for a pulse…it was there, and it was strong. He frowned a little, and then before he could react further, he was on his back again.

The woman’s knees pressed painfully into the insides of his thighs, and her hand – why was her hand so cold? – wrapped tight around her throat.

“It is not wise to try to escape me.”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to gasp and choke, and he tried to hit her with this metal hand, but she caught it before it made contact and forced it down. Shocked at how much strength she had, he struggled harder, but to no avail.

The woman bared her teeth, a little sharper than they  _should_  be, a faint warning growl rumbling up from her chest as she squeezed his neck harder. “Do not make me kill you and have to defy my orders, American.”

Despite how much he wanted to rip those hideous teeth out of her and escape, he wanted more to stay alive. Live to fight another day, and all that. He went still, and she loosened her grip on his neck just enough that he could breathe.

“Good soldier.”

Bucky took his chance and shoved her off of him, her nails leaving littler bloody scratches in the skin of his neck. He scrabbled for the gun, and pointed it at her as soon as it was in his hand. Her electric eyes met his; her body language screamed predator, dangerous, and…somehow, deep beneath, hidden behind layers of who-knew-what… _intoxicating_.  

His hands shook a tiny bit as he started to stand. “Stay back, or I will shoot you.”

She mirrored his movements, then glanced behind him. He kept his gun trained on her and quickly glanced behind him, but when he looked back, she was gone. 

A chill went up his spine. “What the hell…”

He darted for the door, but something invisible tripped him. He rolled, but kept his grip on the gun…as an invisible hand, small and cold, took hold of it, ripping it from his easily.

Suddenly his back was to the wall, the muzzle of the gun pressed under his chin as the woman appeared again with a shimmer of blue.

“Escape is futile, American. Even if you manage to get away from me, the only ways out of this medbay lead to more agents.”

Bucky swallowed a little, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. The woman’s eyes flicked to the movement briefly, then up to his eyes. Her head tilted.

“If you’re going to kill me, then get it over with.”

“It is against my mandate to kill you. My orders are only to keep you from leaving this medbay until others come to fetch you for interrogation.”

“I’d rather you kill me.”

“I am afraid I must disappoint you, then.”

His hand wrapped around hers, trying to pull the trigger. Her hand jerked to the side, the bullet missing him completely as, without her elbow bracing on his chest, the force she was using to keeping him pinned sent her forward, her lips crashing into his.

Bucky’s eyes widened at the contact and he pushed her away. She looked completely off guard for a moment, and in that moment, he saw… _something_  flash through her eyes…something alive. But then the moment passed and in a blink he could not move; tendrils of electric blue light wrapped around his limbs.  _What the hell?!_

He struggled with no result. “What did you do to me?! Who are you?!”

“I am keeping you from both escaping and from killing yourself.”

Her head turned toward the door as footsteps sounded from the hall.

The door opened at a group of at least five agents…not HYDRA…the symbol was wrong…came in.

The woman stepped away from him as one of the agents spoke up.

“Having troubles, Ruskin?”

Ruskin? Bucky looked at the woman as her jaw tightened and she said something snippy in Russian.

 

* * *

 

 

Chernov ignored her statement and turned away from her, pulling out a pair of heavy-duty handcuffs. “ _Let him down.”_

Her magic bindings disappeared with a thought, and the agents that have come with Chernov instantly swarmed the American, holding him still. He struggled, but Chernov struck him hard on the back of the head, and he groaned and hissed.

Chernov turned to her. “ _Knock him out.”_

She quirked a brow.  _“You’re not Sir. You cannot order me. And even if I did knock him out, would you carry him?”_

Chernov scowled, then turned to the agents he brought. “ _Take him to the interrogation cell.”_

They started toward the door, and she followed.

As they approached the interrogation cell, Sir’s voice rang out. “ _Ruskin!”_

I turned. “ _Yes, Sir?”_

_“You have until dawn to break Barnes. Then Zola has something he wants to test on him.”_

_“Barnes?”_

_“The American.”_

At that moment, the American – Barnes – slammed his shoulder into one of the agents guarding him, kicking the other one.

Instantly she leapt into motion, dealing a hit to his groin, ribs, and throat before she had him on the ground, she herself sitting securely on his butt.

Sir raised a brow at her. “Get him in there and bind him tight. Zola does not want him damaged…and none of our agents want to train a damaged man. So keep the torture to a minimum, Ruskin.”

She didn’t ask why he switched to English, but simply responded in the same. “Yes, Sir.”

Sir walked away as she immobilised Barnes with her magic again. She didn’t see the sneers of the other agents, though she knew they were there. The others left, not offering to help at all, though they  _had_  been assigned to do so…but it was not like she was weak.

She hauled Barnes up onto her shoulders and carried him to the interrogation room, plopping him down on the chair and making sure he was as securely bound as she possibly could. Once he was secure, and she could be sure he wasn’t going anywhere, she removed the immobilisation.

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky started struggling instantly, as the woman – Ruskin – sat elegantly in a chair across from him. He tried to break the cuffs with his metal arm, but only ended up straining himself.

“That is not going to work.”

He fell back against the chair and glared daggers at her. Her expression was perfectly blank.

“That’s not going to do you any good, American.”

His hands curled into fists.

“I am going to be blunt; you seem to be the kind of man to appreciate that. So…who are you?”

“Well, you know my last name.” His voice was hoarse, but dripped with disdain.

“That is not what I was asking, Barnes.”

“Why should I tell you?”

“If you do not, I will simply keep asking until you do.” She lifted a hand, blue light swirling around it. “Or I could invade your mind for the information Sir wants, and then we’ll just sit here until dawn.” She lowered her hand, the light fading. “Or we just sit here and I tell Sir that I could not get anything from you.”

His brows furrowed. Why only those options? “That’s it?”

She crossed her arms. “What did you expect?”

“Torture, bleeding, electrocution.”

“Sir said to keep torture to a minimum.”

He watched in silence as she shifted, one bare foot resting on the opposite knee. He let his head hit the back of the chair.

 

* * *

 

 

She watched him for a while, head tilted as the closeness of the room made it easy for her to read his scent. Leather, dark chocolate, plums…that was his identity scent. Layered over that was confusion, some fear, wariness, and beneath it was an unmistakable tang that she had only ever encountered in her own scent.

“ _What_  are you?”

His head lifted, brows furrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You smell different than most I’ve met.”

“Smell? What, like body odour? ‘Cause if so, that would be because I haven’t freakin’ showered in who knows how long, and I just lost my freakin’ arm. So I’m sure I smell like blood too.”

“Not what I’m talking about.”

“Then what in God’s name are you talking about?”

“Your identity scent…there’s something different.”

His eyes went wide, and the fear in his scent flickered to horror. “Lady, you’ve flipped.”

She quirked a brow. “If you expect me to be alarmed by that declaration, you greatly underestimate me.”

“I don’t underestimate you one bit. But I’m guessing this is kind of an insane asylum where the normal go insane, so instead of you being alarmed,  _I’m_  alarmed.”

A little crooked grin, dark and unpleasant, wound its way onto her face. “I’m afraid I must disappoint you…” A bit of poking revealed the information she wanted. “…Sergeant Barnes. This is no asylum…nor will you find any asylum here.”

The horror flared, and he struggled against his bonds.

She arranged herself into an air of false relaxation. “You really do not know where you are?”

“No, and I’d really just like to get out of here and not know where I was.”

“You cannot leave.”

“I will eventually.”

“Perhaps.”

She watched silently as Barnes examined his restraints, tilting her head as he tried again and again, little noises of effort leaving him, and then gave up, his scent shifting between frustration, desperation, and angry resignation.

He looked at her. “What?!”

“You intrigue me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky glared at her. “And you’re a stalker.”

The woman chuckled softly, but it sounded…wrong, like humour was unfamiliar to her. “I just met you today, Sergeant.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I realise that you have no cause to believe anything I say, but I am telling the truth.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

She frowned and leaned back in her chair, then looked at the door. A moment later, someone knocked. Bucky looked up.

The woman got up and opened it a crack, saying something in Russian. A deep, quiet voice responded, and she nodded.

Bucky’s brows furrowed.

The deep voice said a few more things, and the woman stepped out partially, holding the door with her foot.

He tried to see who she was talking to, but the angle made it so all he could see was the door and the back of her leg. He strained a little, and got a glimpse of dark hair, but that was it before the other man left and the woman came back in…with two trays of food.

“If I release one of your hands so you can eat, will you promise to not try to get free? Otherwise I have to feed you.”

“I’m not making any promises. Besides, if it’s poisoned, I’ll die by your hand. So I hope you’ll get the worst punishment possible if it happens.”

She quirked a brow, then put one tray down on her chair. “As you wish.” She walked over and sat herself down on his lap, still carrying the second tray.

Bucky jolted a little…that was both awkward and uncomfortable.

She looked him right in the eyes and offered him a piece of one of the pastries on the tray.

He scrunched his nose. “What is that?”

“Pirozhok. Meat-filled pie.”

“It smells funny.”

“That is probably because you have never encountered any before.”

“Well no duh.”

“They’re very good.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

He opened his mouth, and she fed him the bit of pastry, getting another one as he ate the first.

Once they were done eating, the woman back in her chair and the trays taken away, she looked him in the eyes again.

“I dread to find out what Zola has in store for you.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed.

The woman popped a few fingers absently. “It is probably going to be something horrid, knowing that foul cockroach.”

“Zola?! Here?!”

“Unfortunately. He is the one who...requested that you be healed and trained here. Why Sir agreed, I cannot fathom; we are not friends of HYDRA's.”

“Well…then we have one thing in common.”

She nodded. “Last time I encountered him, he gave me this.” She turned her right arm, displaying a mass of scar tissue at least four inches down through the inside of her elbow. “He nearly lost the ability to reproduce for this.”

Bucky frowned as the woman laced her hands together in her lap.

“Why did he do that?”

Her tone was hard and bitter. “Professional curiosity. He wanted to see what makes me tick.” She scoffed. “He did not get nearly as far as the medics here, and even they still do not know.”

His frown deepened. For some reason…even though he  _hated_  this woman…he felt bad for her. Why? He had no reason to have sympathy for her that he’d experienced.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “And now he wants to make super soldiers, or so I hear. But that does not concern me unless I have to train them.”

Bucky’s hands curled into fists, the left one whirring slightly.

The woman looked up. “What?”

He hesitated, then was about to speak…when someone knocked on the door.

The woman frowned and looked at a clock on the wall that somehow he had not noticed…how had he not noticed the clock?

“We have until dawn, so if that’s one Zola’s they will be getting a few words…” She stood and strode to the door.

The person knocked again, and she opened the door a bit.

 

* * *

 

 

She crossed her arms at the sight of Zola and several guards. “It is not dawn yet.”

“Even so, Frauline, I am anxious to start.”

“Even so, Zola, this is the Red Room, not HYDRA. Ergo, you have no authority here, and must abide by Sir's demands.”

“And Sir abides by Skull's demands at the moment! You wouldn't want to be my little experiment again, would you?”

She snarled. “That was unauthorized, and if you try again, I will cut off your balls and shove them down your throat. Sir is doing this as a favour,  _not_  out of any sense of obligation. Skull will owe Sir for this.”

One of the guards with Zola stepped forward and handed her a paper signed by both Sir and Skull, detailing what Skill had authority over until ‘the asset’s’ training began.  

She frowned, then stepped away. “Very well.”

They all filed in, and she grumpily moved off to the side. Barnes watched Zola with a death glare.

“So, you remember me, do you?” A hint of an evil smile played on the human cockroach’s face.

Barnes’ eyes were full of hate, a universe’s more than when he looked at her.

“Would you like to forget me again?”

Barnes remained silent, his hands curling into fists.

She blinked. How would the cockroach manage that? He was no telepath…

“Is that a yes?”

“Words can’t even describe how much I want to rip your throat out.”

Zola chuckled. “Ah, but you can’t can you? You are at my mercy.”

Barnes jolted to lunge at him, but with no result but the rattling of the restraints.

Zola turned to her. “Can you keep him from attacking once he’s released, fraulein?”

“I can.”

“HYDRA’s a worthless piece of s**t.”

She looked at Barnes, one brow quirked a little as he eyes glimmered briefly with amusement. Yes, yes it was. She wouldn’t have put it that, way, though.

“If you’re planning to use me against my own friend, then you’ll fail.”

Zola looked at Barnes as well. “I won’t.”

Barnes scoffed. She kept her mouth shut.

“Kindly let him loose and bring him. I need him in a different room.”

With a faint glow of blue, the restraints clicked open. Barnes made a dash for it, but a moment later was surrounded by wisps of blue light, held immobile.

“Bring him and follow me.” Zola walked out into the hall, one of the guards holding the door.

She threw Barnes over her shoulder and followed Zola.

He led her to a different interrogation room that had been converted to…something else. Several large monitors and a strange chair had been added…it smelled like electricity.

“Put him in the chair and strap him in.”

She frowned a little, then did so.

“You can stop paralysing him once he’s secure.”

She didn’t respond except to strap him in. The blue light faded away. Barnes struggled as she stepped aside.

Zola turned to his minions. “Is everything ready?”

They nodded.

“Start it up, then.”

One of them flipped a few levers, and the chair began to move. Barnes struggled harder. She frowned. Zola smiled.

Two metal panels closed around Barnes’ face, tight enough that he could no longer move his head, and then the air was filled with the scent of active electricity. Barnes began to scream.

Her jaw tightened as the sound…hurt? Since when did screams hurt? Well, whatever the reason, she wanted it to stop. She leaned casually against the wall, and sent a sharp current of magic to the socket the chair was plugged into. It sparked once, and then died, the panels around Barnes’ head falling open.

Zola cursed. “What did you two idiots do?!”

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky breathed heavily, working his jaw a little as the panels fell open. He blinked a few times to get the spots out of his eyes…his head hurt, and his fingers tingled. He tried to move…but he couldn’t.

Movement by his shoulder, behind him. One of Zola’s minions working on the chair. A cold sweat prickled his back, and he shivered.

The woman…he should probably call her Ruskin, that was her name…stepped forward. “Well, Zola, it seems you cannot proceed at this time. Perhaps it would be wise to put him in a holding cell until such a time as you can once again proceed.”

Zola glared at the woman. “I suppose so. But I want him back as soon as the chair is fixed.”

Ruskin nodded once and turned to Bucky, unstrapping him and…tossing him over her shoulder again. His head throbbed…and he had quite an interesting view.

Eventually she put him down in a cell, locking the door before he had a chance to do anything.

“Keep an eye on him and tell me as soon as he’s recovered. I’ll think of something else to do with him if the chair isn’t ready.” Something about Zola’s last sentence sounded awfully ominous as he walked away…

Bucky groaned and held his head in his hands.

“You alright?”

He gripped his hair, voice hoarse. “Not really.”

The cell door opened, and when it closed again, Ruskin was inside with him, at least judging from the footsteps.

“Those poor assistants…” She sat beside him.

He glanced over, blurry vision making her seem as if she had some kind of aura around her.

She chuckled darkly, then frowned. “They are not going to find anything wrong with the chair…unless I fried the circuits.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed in confusion. “You stopped it?”

Ruskin nodded. “Magic and mechanics sometimes do not…get along.”

A cold chill ran down his spine. “So you weren’t going insane when you told me that?”

She gave him a Look. “How else do you explain the blue light that immobilised you, Sergeant?”

“I dunno…thought it was an angel or something.”

Ruskin stared at him. “Of all the things…”

“Yeah, it was mind boggling to me too, ‘cause you’re nothing like an angel.”

She let out a humourless little snort. “There it is.”

A moment of silence passed, before Bucky spoke again. “Thank you…I guess.”

“…you are welcome.”

He sighed and  _tried_ to relax, then looked over at her. “Why are you still here?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I like my privacy.”

She looked at him, then stood. “As you wish.” The cell door opened silently, and she stepped out, locking it behind her once more.

Bucky got up and laid on the cot, pulling the blanket over him and turning away from the door.

 

* * *

 

 

She glanced at Barnes once more, then left to find Natalia.

The redhead looked up from sharpening her knife as she sat on her bed. “ _Where were you, Liron?”_

_“Interrogating the American that Sir assigned me to interrogate. He’s…intriguing. And a pain in the ass.”_

“ _Was that where the screaming we heard came from? You have such tactical ways of getting information.”_  Natalia smirked teasingly.

Liron shook her head. “ _No, that was not me. Sir said not to damage him. That was Zola’s new…machine. I shorted it out.”_

Natalia’s brow rose. “ _Really? Since when have you had sympathy?”_

_“I have sympathy for you, always.”_

She rolled her eyes. “ _I meant for the prisoners.”_

Liron smiled crookedly.  _“I know.”_  Her smile faded. “ _I…his screams bother me, and there’s something in his scent that…”_

“ _They bothered you? That’s a first. What about his scent?”_

_“Remember when I explained my scent to you?”_

“ _Yeah?”_

_“He has a…tang to his that I’ve only ever caught in mine.”_

“ _Huh…that’s odd. Well, he’ll be gone soon anyway. It’s not like you to be distracted.”_

Liron nodded.

Natalia stood. “ _We have training in a bit, so you might want to look presentable.”_

Liron looked at herself, then shrugged.

“ _I’m saying that because Madame just got back.”_

Liron froze. “ _…Ah.”_

“ _Yeah.”_

Liron changed her clothes.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky was awakened by a bucket of water on his head. He sat up with a gasp, shaking his head and trying to get the water out of his eyes.

“Good morning, Asset.”

“Asset? Who are you calling asset, idiot?”

“You.”

“I am no asset.”

“You have no say in the matter. Get up.”

“Make me.”

The guards moved forward and hauled him to his feet. He fought, but they got him up anyways.

Once on his feet, he threw one of them into the wall, grabbing their gun and shooting the other in the leg. The guard screamed in pain and clutched his wound, while the other guard tackled Bucky and tried to grapple with him.

Bucky snapped his neck, pushed him off, and ran out of the cell, out into the hall…where several more guards were waiting.

* * *

 

The music turned off, and Liron and Natalia stilled.

Madame’s cane clicked on the floor. “ _That will be all for today.”_

They nodded and headed out with silent sighs of relief. Just as they stepped into the hallway, Liron heard the screams and her feet started running before her mind was able to even register what was going on. It was only when she ended up outside the converted interrogation room that she fully realised the situation.

She almost went in, when Natalia grabbed her arm.

“ _Liron…don’t do this to yourself.”_

She looked at her. “ _Why do I want to help him? He’s a pain in the ass and he hates me. I don’t understand.”_

_“I don’t know. But you can’t do this. If Madame, or even Sir were to see how you’re acting…”_

Liron flinched at the thought, and stepped away from the door.

Natalia put her hands on her shoulders, gentle yet firm, and led her back to their room.

About halfway down the hall, the screams stopped, and tension visibly left Liron’s shoulders. Natalia’s hand moved to her back, rubbing lightly, and Liron relaxed slightly before a door opened and footsteps sounded, joined by something being dragged. Liron grit her teeth and kept walking.

They reached their room, and Liron shut the door, sitting on her cot. “ _What’s wrong with me?”_

Natalia sat beside her. “ _I honestly don’t know…maybe…maybe the scent you smelled made you want to care for him. If that’s the only other thing that’s like your scent.”_

Liron frowned.  _“He’s like me. I don’t know how or why or in what way, but he’s like me at his core…”_

_“What do you mean his core?”_

Liron waved her hand, a set of rings of electric blue light appearing in the air. She pointed to the outermost one. “ _This is the set of scents that regular people smell; environmental smells, perfumes, body odour, and the like.”_ She pointed to the middle one. “ _Beneath that are the emotions that can be smelled…so far I have not encountered one that cannot.”_ Her finger touched the centre ring. “ _This is the identity scent; every person has a different one. This is the core scent. I have something woven into mine, I don’t know what it is exactly…but it has a certain tang to it that does not coincide with_ anything _that could make up an identity scent. Whatever it is, Barnes is the first person I have smelled so far to have it as well.”_

Natalia frowned, and Liron lowered her hands.

“ _I hate to say it, but if his scent is the only one you smelled that was different, and the way you’re acting…”_

Liron mirrored Natalia’s expression. “ _What?”_

Jade green eyes met electric blue. “ _Like you two were mates…”_

Liron’s jaw tightened. “ _You know that’s impossible. And even if it was, I am not someone that anyone or anything would_ want _to be mates with.”_

Natalia nodded. “ _Even so, your wolf seems to be taking over your actions whenever you scent him, and when he’s in pain.”_

Liron sighed. “ _I think something is wrong with me.”_

Natalia’s frown deepened. “ _There’s nothing wrong with you. I just hope Sir and Madame never see it happen.”_

Liron ran a hand over her face, and leaned into Natalia as the other woman wrapped an arm around her, petting her hair.

Someone knocked on the door, and Natalia got up to see who it was.

“ _What?”_

_“Agent Ruskin’s presence is requested in Sir’s office.”_

Natalia huffed a little, then nodded at the lower-ranking agent and looked at Liron, who stood and walked over.

The lower-ranking agent turned and left, and Liron followed him to Sir’s office, arranging her face into an expressionless mask on the way.

She knocked.

“ _Come in.”_

She complied. “ _You wished to see me, Sir?”_

_“Yes, I need you to take on an upcoming agent.”_

_“Yes Sir.”_

_“He_ is _HYDRA’s. And will have HYDRA’s symbol. But I want you to give him the same treatment as you would if you were training him to be one of our agents.”_

Liron nodded a little. “ _Yes Sir.”_

“ _We should be expecting him to start tomorrow. So you will meet here tomorrow afternoon.”_

She nodded again. “ _Yes Sir.”_

_“That is all.”_

She saluted, and returned back to her room.

When she entered, Natalia looked up. “ _What did he want?”_

_“I’ve been assigned to train a new agent…for HYDRA. I hate HYDRA.”_

Natalia frowned. “ _Why does HYDRA want our help?”_

_“I don’t know. Maybe they’ve finally acknowledged that we are so much more effective than they.”_

Her friend snorted. “ _I doubt it. They probably don’t care, or they’re going to be exceptionally harsh or something.”_

Liron inclined her head. Natalia shrugged, and Liron sighed.

“ _Don’t think about it. Just know that you’ll be making an agent for HYDRA…the Red Room is to thank for that…if the agent lasts that long.”_

_“Mm.”_

_“When do you meet them?”_

_“Tomorrow afternoon.”_

Natalia nodded as the curfew bell tolled. “ _Get some rest.”_

Liron sighed and changed into her nightclothes, quick-release-cuffing her wrist to the bedpost as usual and curling into a foetal position. “ _Let’s hope we can actually sleep.”_

In the bed across from hers, Natalia did the same, though without curling up, and the lights went out.

* * *

 

The first thing he realised when he awoke was his massive headache. His hands gripped his head, eyes squeezed shut, trying to stave it off, and eventually it faded a little.

He opened his eyes…why was he in a cell? For that matter, who was he?

He sat up slowly, wincing as his headache got worse, then looked up as distant footsteps sounded down the hall.

“Get up, Asset!”

Asset? Was that his name? He stood, and one of the guards that was approaching down the hall beckoned him forward. He obeyed, and the guard unlocked the cell door and grabbed him harshly, dragging him out into the hall.

Now he was more confused. What was going on? Why was a voice in his head telling him to fight these people? For that matter, where were they taking him, and why were they being so forceful about it? But he did nothing. His brain felt…oddly empty. Like something was missing.

The guards’ grip did not waver until they reached a set of metal double doors, something in Russian embossed on the side…now that he thought about it, the rest of the doors they’d passed had similar things. One of the guards knocked, and a muffled voice said something he – Asset? – couldn’t understand.

The one guard pulled open the door, and both of them forced Asset in…Asset couldn’t be his name. It sounded nothing like a name at all.

…it was an office. That was unexpected. Wood panelling covered the walls in place of – or probably over – cement like in the hallway, a few feet in, the floor switched from the same cement to a rich-looking rug, upon which was set a heavy-looking – oak? – desk, the light from the high windows pouring in and silhouetting the man in the tall-backed chair behind the desk. The man himself was almost as imposing as the office itself, tall, with more salt-than-pepper hair, features that while sharp were…relatively handsome, and hard eyes of an indeterminate colour.

He blinked a little and glanced around, staring at the man in the chair for a moment before looking back at the door as it shut behind him. When he looked back at the man, the man beckoned him forward, and he obeyed.

The man spoke, voice smooth and deep, Russian accent thick. “Have a seat.”

Hesitantly, he obeyed.

“What do you know? Or rather, what do you remember?”

“…I only remember that I woke in a cell with a terrible headache.” Was  _that_  his voice? Why was his throat sore?”

The man in the chair smiled, but it didn’t seem genuine. A knock sounded on the door, and he turned.

“Enter.”

The door opened, and a woman came in. His breath almost stopped as he tried to analyse her like the man in the chair…not that he knew how he knew how to do that.

She was…late twenties, he guessed, and was tall, probably very close to his height, and from what he could see of her form by the way her clothes hung, she was all lean muscle. Pale-golden hair, pulled back in a severe braid from…stunning blue eyes. His gaze lingered there for a moment before taking in the rest of her face. Narrow chin,  _slightly_ prominent cheekbones, tall forehead, strong jaw, and lips that…his eyes lingered again, before he realised she was looking right back at him and he turned away, cheeks starting to redden.

Something within him told him this was not the first time he’d seen her, that he knew her, but…how? He could remember…

The woman looked away from him and approached the man in the chair, her voice laced with the same accent…and something  _else_ , some other accent perhaps, lurking underneath.

“You summoned me, Sir?”

“Zola’s procedure worked.”

His brows furrowed a little. Zola? What was a Zola? What procedure? Why was he even there?

The man in the chair shifted a little. “Agent Ruskin, allow me to introduce your new trainee…” The man paused for a moment, seeming amused. “It seems he does not have a name…that he knows of. Perhaps, since you will be spending the next…approximately twenty years with him, you should do the honours of thinking of something to call him.”

He frowned, but then she looked at him and their eyes met. He stared at her.

She stared at him, then said something in Russian. “Зимний Солдат.”

‘Sir’ nodded. “The Winter Soldier, trained by the Ice Queen. Fitting.”

The woman – Ice Queen did not sound like a name, but okay – smiled a tiny bit.

He looked between the two of them. First he was Asset, now he was Winter Soldier, or…whatever she had said. Who was he supposed to call himself?

“Most likely I will call him Zima more often than that; quicker to say.”

Sir nodded again. “Very good. You are dismissed.”

The woman looked at – Winter Soldier? Zima? Maybe he should ask what his name was… - again, and gestured for him to stand. “Follow me.”

He obeyed. Her footsteps were completely silent as she led him down the hall. He stared at the back of her head, thinking, trying to remember.

“I can feel your eyes on me, Zima.”

He blinked, then looked down the hall instead.

“But I suggest you keep an eye on me, or else you will get lost.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” So he was polite…something he should definitely remember.

“You are forgiven.”

They walked in silence for a while before she spoke again.

“You need better clothes.”

He looked at himself, suddenly realising that he was in some sort of grey hospital wear, then looked back up, only for his eyes to meet hers again. Something flickered in hers, like a mask wavering, before she gestured for him to continue following.

She led him to a room full of racks of clothing, looked him over and wrote something down in a book on the desk, then pointed him to one of the racks.

“Try them on until they fit.”

He studied the rack, then grabbed a few sets that  _seemed_  like they’d fit him and looked around for…something. Whatever he was looking for wasn’t there, so he just changed where he stood…it all fit. Nice. He guessed his size well.

He grabbed a few more sets of different kinds, some boots, and some underwear…why was so much in black? That didn’t make sense. Either that or grey…several of the shirts were white, though. Anyhow…

“I finished.”

The woman looked at him and nodded. “Now time to get you properly cleaned up.” She took the clothes he had picked out, tucking them under her arm. “Follow me.”

“I can take them.”

She looked at him, then handed the clothes back.

He followed her to another room that looked…like a very small barracks. How did he know what a barracks was?

Four beds lined the walls, a simple metal wardrobe beside each one. The two closest to the door they entered through seemed taken…there was a scent to each of them that the two closest to the  _other_  door did not have. Well, he had a good nose, that was now certain.

The woman pointed him toward the other door; on the opposite side of the room. “I hope you remember how to take a shower.”

He nodded. It seemed like he remembered everything…except who he was and who he knew…so perhaps it was more like…instincts?

“Good. Go do that.”

He nodded again and strode through the other door, closing it behind him.

The bathroom was just as austere as the bedroom; shower, sink with a mirror above it, toilet, and that was it, mostly metal, though the walls of the shower were fogged glass. On the back of the door however, was another mirror, full-length and seeming quite nice in comparison to the rest of the room, and on the wall beside the door was a set of four hooks, two holding…rather thin-looking white bathrobes.

He did a small double-take at the mirror and the robes compared to the rest, but didn’t dwell on it much, setting down his stuff and stripping down to hop in the shower.

When he turned on the water, it was deathly cold, and he jolted…why did it make his head feel strange? His eyes slipped closed as images took over his mind.

**_There was a train…on a snowy mountain…he and some tall blond guy were fighting a…human tank? The blond guy got shot back, and he picked up the blond’s shield and started shooting at the tank…he was shot through the side of the train…he was slipping…the blond grabbed at him, shouting something…he fell._ **

**_Fog and falling snow blurred his sight…he turned around…he could see the ground…it was coming so quickly…something struck his left side, and he nearly went unconscious from the pain as his scream gained a new note. He hit something else and landed in the snow on his back, only able to register it briefly before his vision went black and all sensations disappeared._ **

When he opened his eyes, he was kneeling on the shower floor, clutching his head, the water now warm and hitting his back gently.

Something pounded on the door, and the woman’s voice sounded. “Zima? Are you alright in there?”

He gripped his head harder, groaning a little.

“Zima?”

“Yeah?” His voice cracked a little, and he cleared his throat.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

He stood carefully and washed…then tripped as he stepped out of the shower. “Ow.”

He started to get up again, but suddenly went lightheaded and grabbed onto the closest thing he could…which just happened to be the door handle. The door flew open, and he toppled over…on top of…something.

He blinked a few times, and when his sight cleared, a cold chill ran down his spine at the sight of the woman beneath him.

He wasn’t even sure what he said, aside from an apology, before he scrambled back into the bathroom, slamming the door, bracing his hands on it for a moment just to make sure it was shut, panting.

After a few moments, he sighed and rooted around for a towel, finding on under the sink. His cheeks reddened as he dried off, what had just happened playing back in his mind, though he tried to shake it off as he dressed.

* * *

 

Liron lay where she had fallen for a second, blinking. Well  _that_  had been unexpected. Shaking her head, she stood and walked to her bed, sitting to wait.

She heard the door open, but didn’t turn. His scent and footsteps approached, then stopped.

“Uh…where do I go?”

She looked at him…oh goodness he looked…no, stop it, Ruskin, you’re not making any sense. “For?”

“For a bed…”

She indicated the two that weren’t hers or Natalia’s. “One of those.”

He looked between them, then chose the one next to hers, putting his extra clothes in the wardrobe, then sat on his bed.

She turned so she was facing him directly. “Tomorrow, your training starts.”

His face twisted in confusion. “What training?”

“HYDRA stole you to be their perfect weapon, and requested that you be trained and programmed her, since our agents are leagues better than theirs. Sir accepted, and chose me to be the one to do the training.”

“Who’s HYDRA?”

Liron sighed, then told him very bluntly everything she knew about it.

When she was done, he frowned.

“Then…who am I? And why am I so special?”

“I am not completely sure. You were not very forthcoming with information when I interrogated you five days ago.”

His brows furrowed. “I don’t even remember you…”

“I am aware of that.”

He sighed deeply and leaned down to bury his face in his hands, gripping his head. “I don’t understand. I don’t remember  _anything_.”

“You can blame Zola for that.”

Her trainee looked up. “Who is he?”

“A cockroach in human form with an unfortunate talent for science and mechanics.”

His brows furrowed deeper. “Cockroach?”

“Yes.”

“So he’s tiny?”

“About this tall.” She gestured.

“But why is he called a cockroach, then?”

“Because he is an abomination.”

“Why?”

She ran her hand over her hair. “Several reasons…” She gave him the short explanation, her face expressionless.

He frowned. “So…he’s the one that made me into this…machine?”

“You are no machine yet, but he removed your memories, yes.”

He rubbed his head. “Then…who are you?”

“I am your trainer.”

“I mean…your name.”

“You may call me Agent Ruskin or Ma’am. When we go on missions, you will call me Ice Queen or just Queen. My first name is something you do not need to know, and probably never will need to know.”

He nodded a little. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“And you are the Winter Soldier; Zima informally. Sir has forbidden me from revealing your past name at this point.”

Zima frowned. “Why?”

“I do not know, and it is not wise to question Sir’s orders.”

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologise. You did not know.”

He nodded.

“I suggest you familiarise yourself with this room. Do not touch anything in the wardrobes by any bed other than your own.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Zima looked around, then shifted a little. “So…what do I do now?”

“Settle in, as much as you need to.”

“And then?”

“And then training starts tomorrow.”

“Alright.”

Liron grabbed one of the books under her bed and began to read. At some point, Zima fell asleep, and some time afterward, Natalia returned, then stopped short.

Liron did not look up. “ _Sir assigned me to train him.”_

“ _This isn’t good.”_  Natalia’s scent moved to her bed.

Liron turned a page. “ _Agreed. But orders are orders, and Sir must be obeyed. Even if I’d rather otherwise…often.”_

_“And what will happen if something were to happen to him?”_

_“I…I do not know. I would think I would do as is required of me, but this is a new situation.”_

“ _You’ll be expelled if not punished severely.”_

Liron looked up. “ _I mean I would think I would follow orders as requested.”_

“ _I know what you meant…and I also know you can’t control your actions around him.”_

_“I do not think there have been enough instances to make that ruling yet.”_

_“I believe it.”_

Liron put her hand down and ran her hand through her hair, then got up, changed, and went to bed. The cuff seemed colder than normal…it was actually somewhat soothing…somehow. Odd.

“ _Night.”_

_“Night.”_

* * *

 

“Wake up!”

Zima jolted a little. “Oh gosh.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t do that.”

Trainer quirked a brow.

He rolled over onto his back and sat up.

“Get dressed. Training starts after the meal.”

“What meal?”

She gave him a Look. “Food, Zima.”

“I know that. But breakfast, lunch…?”

She frowned a little. “Whichever one is morning. Get up, and get dressed.”

He obeyed, putting on what he had on the day before.

The redheaded woman that hadn’t been there the night before was out the door first, Trainer following with an order for him to follow them.

Zima titled his head, looking at the redhead. “Who is that?”

“Agent Romanova; my partner.”

“Oh…I didn’t see her yesterday.”

“She was on a mission.”

“Oh.”

They led him to the mess hall…it was just as austere as the other room; metal tables, cement walls and floor...very simple looking food...but much better looking than army food – how did he know what army food was like? - on the counter. Zima’s mouth watered.

Trainer and her partner approached the counter, and the person behind it handed them each a tray…up close the food looked…well…still better than army rations.

Zima stared at it, not sure what it actually was…

“Zima. Get some food.”

He turned to her. “Ma’am?”

“Yes?”

“I’m not even sure what some of this is.”

“Does it matter?”

“I just want to make sure I’m not eating anything weird…”

“I guarantee it is safe…also, this is the only option, and the only meal we get today.”

“Oh.” He took it, and they went to sit down.

Zima poked around at his food before tasting a bit, as Trainer and her partner just…ate. It was…okay.

When they were done, Trainer led him to a…shooting range.

“Do you know how to handle a gun?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

She handed him a pistol. “Show me.”

Instinctively, he checked it, then aimed and fired at the targets on the wall, hitting the centre or near to each time until the magazine was empty.

“Very good. Now clean it.”

Zima looked around for a table or something to do so on, and then obeyed, taking it apart methodically, his hands knowing what to do much more than his brain, before cleaning it and reassembling it, then laying it flat.

“Well done.”

He looked at her, and their eyes met…how had he not noticed how captivating her eyes were? Several long seconds passed…and then Zima jumped at the sound of shots firing from a few metres away. He turned to see a tall, redhaired man at one of the other stations, just the barest glimpse of a – spider? – tattoo behind his ear.

Suddenly Zima couldn’t…sense…smell?...Trainer next to him anymore, and he turned. Oh. There she was. He joined her at a table, upon which were set various weapons…including a sword for some reason.

“How many of these can you use well?”

…How was he supposed to know that? He couldn’t remember anything…but he found himself answering anyways. “Knife, machine gun, sniper rifle, pistol.”

She nodded a little, then walked off. “Take the knife and follow.”

Zima grabbed the knife and stuck it in his belt, then jogged a little to catch up with Trainer.

She led him to a mostly-empty room, a few people sparring in the corner, and drew a knife of her own from behind the pistol in the holster on her hip. “Come here.”

He stepped closer, wary.

“I am not going to bite you, Zima.”

He stepped closer, and she melted into a ready stance. He tried to mirror her.

“You know how to knife fight, yes?”

“Yes…just never like this.”

“Show me.”

“I usually just snuck up on them.”

“So you know how to kill but not to fight.”

“…yes.”

The ready stance dropped away, but as she seemed to relax, Zima realised just a bit that for her the ready stance was almost unnecessary…that was intimidating.

“Do you know how to fight hand-to-hand?”

“Somewhat.”

Her knife went back into its sheath. “Show me.”

Zima shifted his stance, and she mirrored him. He lunged at her, trying to hit her side…she dodged nimbly, striking his kidney before he had a chance to turn and block it. Zima grunted, and went for another punch. Trainer dodged again.

Something about the movements clicked in his head, and images appeared behind his eyes…a boxing ring. He knew what he was doing. This was just like another match at O’Dooley’s.

Zima aimed for Trainer’s stomach, but she dodged again, kicking his rear lightly. He turned quickly, this time aiming for her face and as she blocked that, his knee caught her in the ribs.

Trainer grunted softly…then one corner of her mouth crooked up and he found himself on the ground, his other leg kicked out from under him.

Zima rolled and stood, settling back into his stance. Trainer was still smiling.

“You were a boxer.”

“I just remembered I was.”

She nodded. “I see it in how you move.”

He smiled.

“But boxing and army basic training are nowhere near enough.” Suddenly she was a blur, one fist hitting his gut then redirecting into his jaw, the other grabbing his shirt and spinning around as one foot takes out both of his knees, sending him to the floor, Trainer pressed right up against his back, her mouth by his ear and his arms locked behind him.

Zima groaned and tried to struggle but to no avail. Wow.

Trainer’s breath was warm on the shell of his ear. “So you will learn weaponless combat first.”

The hairs on his neck stood on end, and a shiver than down his spine when her lips brushed his earlobe.

“Now break free.”

Right…how was he to do that? One knee rose up, planting his foot against the floor as a brace as he fought against her grip, the muscles of his right arm straining and the plates of his left whirring. With some wiggling, he managed to break out of Trainer’s hold…but he had a sneaking suspicion that the only reason he had was that she let him…she was  _strong_.

Zima turned, and Trainer melted back into a fighting stance. He did the same.


	3. Chapter 3

By the end of the day and the training session, Zima was exhausted, bruised, and hungry. They had not stopped to eat at all, and when he asked Trainer, she just looked at him like he had two heads. He didn’t ask again. Over the course of the session, he had learned a few things…first was that he sorely needed the training he was getting. Second, Trainer was strong enough to carry him easily. Third, when kicking high he needed to be lightning fast, or else his leg would get grabbed or his supporting leg would get knocked out from under him. Trainer said he should stick to keeping his legs low for now, and work on the fancier looking moves later.

But the highlight of the day was when he watched Trainer spar with her partner. It was like watching a dance…a dance of death, beautiful and dangerous, just like the two women.

When it was over, and they had returned to the room, Zima was directed to shower before he could collapse onto his bed. He obeyed with a sigh, and took his shower and quickly as possible…he was sore and he just wanted to lay down…and when he did, he didn’t think he would ever get up again.

Trainer and her partner argued quietly in Russian for a bit, and then her partner took the shower next.

“Zima.”

He hummed a little in response, eyes closed.

“What languages do you know?”

“None.”

She scoffed. “Obviously you know at least one; you were just speaking it.”

He rolled his eyes behind the closed lids. “No duh.”

Her voice turned sharp. “Your backtalk is not appreciated, Soldier.”

He kept his eyes closed, shrinking a tiny bit. “Sorry ma’am…I’m just tired.”

“Apology accepted.”

After a while, he started to doze off.

* * *

Natalia came out of the bathroom drying her hair, and Liron took her place. After a while, Natalia frowned and looked over at the door. It’d been much longer than normal…she got up and knocked.

“ _Liron?”_

No response.

She knocked harder. “ _Liron, are you okay?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Oh, alright.”_

_“Just thinking.”_

Natalia hummed in acknowledgement, then went back to her book as Liron came out.  

“ _You alright?”_

Her partner didn’t look over as she pulled her nightgown over her head. “ _Of course.”_

_“You seem unusually quiet.”_

_“Just thinking.”_

Natalia nodded a little, then looked over at her partner’s trainee. “ _Shouldn’t he wear cuffs?”_

Liron tilted her head. “ _…good point.”_  She conjured a pair of quick-release handcuffs like they used with a swirl of blue and clicked them around the man’s wrist and bedframe, before both women went to their own beds, Natalia turning off the light on the way.

* * *

Liron closed her eyes, but could not sleep. After a while, she heard the clinking of Zima’s cuff, and glanced over…well that position looked painful.

She bit her lip, then made a decision…there were no cameras in there, so they weren’t being watched… She got up and uncuffed his hand, then went back to bed.

The minute she closed her eyes, she fell into slumber, and was instantly tossed into a nightmare…no, a memory.

**_Snow…harsh, blinding with the whipping wind. Unfamiliar snow. Unfamiliar scents. Unfamiliar air. Unfamiliar…everything. Where was she? Her small body shook with cold and fear. She wanted her mama and papa…oh…the snow wasn’t blowing so hard anymore._ **

**_Faintly, shapes in the now-fading blizzard…people? They seemed to be people. She called out for help, but the wind stole the words away. The people heard her cry, though, and came closer. She called out again, wrapping her arms tight around herself, her summer dress doing nothing against the bitter wind and biting snow. The group grew even closer, and seemed to see her now._ **

**_The blizzard died down to simply a snowfall, revealing to her better details of the group. Mostly men, in heavy fur-lined coats and hats with an odd symbol emblazoned on the fabric…she couldn’t tell what the symbol was yet, but it was red. They were talking among themselves, but she couldn’t understand them…why couldn’t she understand them? They also didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get to her._ **

**_She swayed a little, still shaking…they looked scary. A few of them drew…some kind of weapon from their coats as they surrounded her…their faces were hidden. She whimpered, hands starting to spark blue light in her fear._ **

**_One of them noticed, and the weapon in their hands cocked. The others drew closer, some kind of shackles hanging from the hand of another._ **

**_She shrunk back, but they had surrounded her. In her fear, a blast of electric blue light leapt from her hands, the wave knocking them down and out. Something pricked the back of her neck, and she jolted, before sending another wave, knocking them down again._ **

**_Hands closed around her shoulders, and she squirmed and fought, trying to get away…then everything went dark as the tranquiliser took effect._ **

Liron awoke with a jolt, her arm twisted painfully in her cuff. With a soft huffing sigh, she brushed her hair out of her face and released her wrist, rubbing it until the pain faded. She glanced at Natalia and Zima…they were both asleep.

Zima shifted a little, and she looked at him. The faint moonlight shone through the small, high window fell perfectly on his face, making him seem to almost glow. He looked so peaceful…

She tore her gaze away from him and laid back down. Sleep did not come quickly, and by the time she started to drift off again, Natalia was getting up.

Liron sat up and ran a hand over her face, rubbing her eyes and yawning, then stood and dressed quickly while Natalia was in the bathroom. She was leaning on her wardrobe when her partner came back into the bedroom.

“ _Liron?”_

She looked over.

“ _You alright?”_

Liron shook her head. “ _Dreamed my earliest memory again.”_

Natalia frowned. “ _You haven’t had that one in a long time…”_

_“I know. But like the others, it comes and goes. I don’t think there’s any significance to it.”_

_“I hope you’re right, knowing our lives.”_

Zima’s scent altered a little, and Liron looked at him. “Oh good. Get up and get dressed. Today you are going to start learning Russian.”

His eyes opened, and he sat up with a groan.

Natalia bid her goodbye; Ivan may have a solo mission for her. Liron nodded, and turned back to Zima as her partner headed out.

“Stay here. I do not have the books required to teach you at the moment. I will be back with them momentarily.” She followed Natalia out the door, but instead of heading down the hall to Ivan’s room, Liron went the other direction; to the library.

Zima only had his shirt half-on when Liron returned to the room, and she spared him a hidden glance before focussing on the task at hand.

She put the books down and took the file from on top. “According to this, in addition to English, you know French, German, and Irish Gaelic.”

His brows furrowed. “I don’t know any of those. I only know a little bit of German because…” He trailed off, a light coming on in his eyes.

“Zima, what is it?”

“I remembered something.”

“Oh?”

“I remember I learned some German…but I can’t remember _what_. And I remember  _something_  about a Frenchman…but I have no idea how I would know Irish Gaelic.”

He sat down, and she tossed him one of the books.

“Read as much of that as you can. There were a few from the British army that…decided to change citizenship, and so that was purchased to assist them.”

“What is it?”

“Beginner’s guide.”

“To what?”

She gave him a look. “Gardening…what do you think?”

“What language, I mean.”

“Russian.”

He nodded a little and started reading.

Liron picked up his file, curious on what information HYDRA had on him that she was to add to.

The file was…quite detailed, in German rather than English, which made sense and was easier for her to read, and told of an… _experiment_  that had been performed on him; among other details, of course. She frowned deeply the more she read. Zola had horrid handwriting…but at least his methods were not  _quite_  as cruel as those of the Red Room scientists.

After a while, she put the file down and watched Zima read. He looked up, and their eyes locked. She scanned his mind, searching…for what she didn’t really know, but…

Her lips parted a little. “ _Not as broken as I thought…”_

His brows furrowed. “What?”

“Your mind is not as broken as I had thought.”

“Why would my mind be broken?”

“You are missing twenty seven years of memory.”

His brows furrowed deeper. “Twenty seven?”

“That is how old you are.”

“I…don’t remember…”

“You were forced to forget.”

“How?”

Liron broke eye contact. “That is not something I am privy to tell you. Go back to your book.” She stood. “Stay here and read all the ones you can. I will be back; do not leave this room.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She left, locking the door behind her, and headed to Sir’s office, knocking lightly.

“ _Come in.”_

She obeyed, and he looked up from his papers.

“ _I don’t know what to do.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“He’s asking questions.”_

_“So?”_ Sir’s hands folded on the desk.

“ _I don’t know how to answer them.”_

Her superior’s voice was cold. “ _Lie. You know that. You’re good at it.”_

Liron tried not to flinch at his tone. “ _Yes, Sir.”_

Sir frowned and leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest, now seemed concerned. “ _Liron, what’s wrong?”_

_“I…I’ve become defective.”_

His voice went cold again. “ _Is it the soldier? Is that why you’ve been acting strangely?”_

Liron nodded. “ _Yes Sir. Something about him…calls me. I don’t know what to do.”_

_“You’re stronger than this. I know you are. Do you not appreciate all I’ve done for you?”_

She bowed her head. “ _I do, Sir. I will accept whatever punishment you deem fitting for my weakness.”_

There was a long pause, and she glanced up to find him contemplative.

“ _How does he make you feel?”_

What? Um… “ _…confusion, warmth, longing for…something. I don’t know what.”_

Sir stood. “ _Your punishment will be to report to me everything that occurs. If your feelings change, if he does anything to you.”_

_“Yes, Sir.”_

_“Dismissed.”_

She left quietly, missing the sudden grim grin that spread across his face.

When Liron returned to the room, Zima had finished…three books, and was about halfway through the fourth. She watched him for a while, then put his file under her bed with hers; they could make copies, and she needed to add to it anyways.

Time passed, and eventually Zima put down the book.

“Now how much of that did you retain?”

“German I got down pat, French and Irish Gaelic are iffy, and Russian…it’s a mess.”

She chuckled. “I have heard it is hard to learn.”

“But you’re Russian.”

“I grew up learning it.”

“…oh.”

“Come here.”

He stood and she beckoned him over. He obeyed.

“Normally it would take several months at the least for you to learn Russian, but as it stands, I happen to have a shortcut and I don’t want to take the slow path.” She put her fingers to his temples. “This will hurt.”

His pretty eyes flashed with fear, and he pulled back.

Liron softened her voice. “Come back here, Zima.”

He did as he was told, and she closed her eyes, forging a temporary link between their minds before forcing knowledge of all the languages she knew into his mind…except Old Norse. That one stayed for her and her alone.

Zima’s left fist whirred as it clenched, and he cried out. She held him still until the transfer was complete, then broke the temporary bond and stroked his hair instinctively. His chest shook, his breathing hard and heavy.

Without her mind’s input, Liron’s arms pulled Zima close, still stroking his hair. She revelled in the feeling of a body close to hers that she was not killing or subduing. His arms wrapped around her, chest still heaving, holding her tight. Her eyes slipped closed…he was so warm…her hands carded slowly through his hair like the one time she had had some extra time on a mission and had run off to pet a cat.

He snuggled close, and she wrapped one arm around him, the other still stroking his hair. He shifted, laying his head on her hip and his chest over her legs. Zima relaxed into her, and she kept her eyes closed.

Soon his breathing patterns shifted to that of sleep, his body curled up on the bed, arms around her waist and head in her lap…she could not help but hold him close, relishing his warmth.

* * *

Zima awoke to an unfamiliar sight…was that Trainer’s hip? Wait a minute…he sat up quickly, almost knocking his head on her chin as she let go.

“S-sorry ma’am.”

Trainer hesitated a long time before speaking. “…If I truly had an issue with it, I would not have let you do it. Just…try not to do it again.”

He nodded and stood. “Yes ma’am.”

His own bed seemed odd as he laid down, and it took him a long time to fall asleep again.

* * *

Liron looked up as Natalia came in.

“ _How did it go?”_

_“Well enough. I need to report to Sir.”_

_“Is something wrong?”_

_“He required me to report to him on happenings regarding Zima.”_

_“Ah.”_

She nodded once, then left, silently making her way to Sir’s office for the second time that day.

When he looked up from his paperwork to see her standing before him, an odd little half-smirk flickered across his face, but only  _barely_  noticeable.

“ _Sir, I…I made a misjudgement…I think.”_

Sir frowned. “ _You THINK?”_

Liron nodded.  _“Yes, Sir. I gave him the knowledge of language all at once, because I did not wish to take the time to teach him all of them, and you did not say I couldn’t…and then I…I held him through the headache…petting his hair…and I let him fall asleep with his head on my hip.”_

Sir’s frown deepened.  _“You care about him.”_

Liron went very still. That couldn’t be. It was impossible for her to care for anything…anything save for her partner and Sir…it was against her training. “ _Sir?”_

_“You heard me. You care about him. Don’t you?”_

_“I don’t…I don’t know, Sir. I was not trained for that.”_

He nodded once. “ _I will inform Madame of this when she returns.”_

She tried to keep impassive, she really did, but she could not keep the colour draining from her face at the thought of that.

_“I will make sure no punishment is put on you.”_

She calmed…somewhat, and did not reply.

“ _You_ really _don’t like Madame, do you?”_

Liron bit her lip; a nervous habit that was never able to be trained out of her. Should she…or should she remain silent? No. She could not lie to Sir…it would be ungrateful.

“ _Permission to speak freely, Sir?”_

“ _Granted.”_

She drew a slow breath. “ _I both hate and fear Madame with all that I am, and were I given leave to kill her, I would do it gladly.”_

Sir chuckled, and Liron looked down, not sure how to respond to that.

“ _To be honest, I feel the same way at times.”_

Her head snapped up.

“ _But she is my best chance for the girls to be trained at this point. If you continue to come to me about everything that happens between you and the soldier, I will make sure Madame does not punish you. Understand?”_

_“Yes Sir.”_

_“You’re dismissed.”_

_“Thank you, Sir.”_  Liron left, her mind swirling.

Sir felt similarly regarding Madame as she did. He had the power to remove her from her position, or order her death…but he didn’t…because she was his only chance to train the girls…what girls? She and Natalia were all that was left of the Black Widow program. That was the only girl-only training program, and it had not started up again…had it? Were Sir and Madame already training her and Natalia’s replacements? But Sir had said she could never  _be_ replaced, not with the power she had…Natalia’s replacement, then. But…Natalia was  _her partner_ …she couldn’t be replaced either. So what had Sir been talking about?

The room was dark when Liron returned, and she got into bed, silent save for the clinking of her cuff. Zima shifted in the bed beside hers…and then suddenly spoke.

“Ma’am?”

“Mm?”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Cuff your wrist.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s…odd…”

She twisted to look at him through the darkness. “I have never done anything different…why would you think it is odd?”

“I…I don’t know…”

* * *

Trainer looked at him a little longer, then rolled back over. “Go to sleep, Zima. And cherish the sleep you can get while you can get it.”

He watched her for a bit, then mirrored her action. “Yes ma’am.”

He fell asleep quickly, but after a while a soft clinking invaded his ears, and his eyes fluttered open. What the hell was that noise? Zima lifted his head and looked around as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, before they landed on Trainer’s wrist. Oh, right.

His gaze ambled down to her face, and a frown marred his. …she seemed in pain. He  _wanted_  to get up and…help her or something, but…he didn’t want to make her angry…

Trainer started panting, tears streaming down her face, and Zima tossed his covers back, padding silently over and shaking her gently. She did not respond. He shook her harder.

Suddenly her eyes darted open glowing solid blue, and her left hand wrapped around his throat as the cuff around her right snapped in two. They tumbled to the ground, Zima landing flat on his back with a grunt, Trainer straddling him. Her hand tightened on his throat as the other, cuff chain still dangling down, rose to punch, but he blocked it with his metal one, gripping her fist hard.

His metal fist slowly began to ice over, and Trainer’s hand on his throat tightened further, her eyes shining like a beacon through the dark. Whispers filled his ears, unintelligible voices tolling damnation and calling for no mercy in judgement, no chance for redemption.

He struggled to move, heart pounding in his ears…it was so dark he couldn’t tell if his vision was going fuzzy or not…he clawed at her hand...he needed air.

Suddenly the hand was gone, the glow fading from Trainer’s eyes as Zima gasped for breath. She scrambled off of him, seeming oddly stiff though her motions were still as graceful and fluid as ever so far as he could tell in the darkness. Slowly and carefully he sat up.

Trainer’s voice was soft. “I am sorry.”

Something…something in her tone made his heart hurt, a wave of pity rising up. His pitch matched hers. “What’s wrong?”

“I nearly killed you unprovoked. I nearly broke protocol in one of the most damaging ways.”

Fumbling due to lack of sight, he slowly crawled over and put a hand on her back. She flinched at the touch…then unexpectedly leaned into it. He rubbed her back a little, and she sighed.

“You okay?”

“Always.”

He frowned. “You’re lying.”

“I am good at that.” Her voice was so emotionless…why did it bother him so much?

“You’re not okay.”

“It does not matter.”

“Yes it does, you’re my trainer.” He was not going to back down on this.

“That does not give you license to care. I never did for mine.”

“I don’t want another trainer if something happened to you…”

Though it was too dark to really see the motion, he could tell she was looking at him now.

“What?”

“I don’t want another trainer.”

Now there was a frown in her voice…at least it was some emotion. “Why?”

He hesitated. “I…don’t know…you seem to be patient with me…I don’t think another trainer would be as good as you.”

She was silent for a long time, and he started to worry, taking his hand off her back and putting it in his lap.

“I have only been your trainer for two days, Zima.” She stood. “Go back to bed.”

Bewilderment filled him at the sudden change of tone, and he realised that he probably should started getting used to that sort of thing from her…but he still obeyed the…not-quite-order, and climbed back into bed, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling even though he couldn’t see it.

**_Voices were whispering in his ears…he couldn’t tell what they were saying…a pair of hands closed on his shoulders, pulling him backwards until he met a body, cold but living…their arms wrapped tight around him, and icy lips pressed against his neck, a lock of hair tickling his shoulder._ **

Zima awoke in a cold sweat, panting and shivering a little. He buried his face in his hands, trying to calm his breathing.

In the bed next to his, what was left of Trainer’s cuff clinked. He looked over, but could tell nothing of what she was doing, so looked away again, running hand through his hair as his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness again. Trainer shifted again.

He started to get up…maybe take a shower or something…but before he was more than two steps away from his bed, Trainer spoke.

“Zima, it is too early for that.”

“I can’t sleep.”

Cloth rustled as she stood. “Then come with me…when trainer and trainee cannot sleep, the best thing to do is train.”

He frowned. “But it’s early.”

“So? We are awake.”

“…Okay.”

She opened the door, faint light from the hallway spilling into the room and framing her nightgown-clad form with a cold glow.

“Shouldn’t you change?”

“Why?”

“You’re not in training clothes.”

Trainer shrugged. “It does not matter, unless this gets ripped and I need to get a new one.”

“Still…”

She started at him for a bit, then shrugged and strode to her wardrobe, pulling off her nightgown as she went. He turned away out of decency, even though he could barely see anything, and fumbled around until he was more properly dressed as well.

When he turned around, she was back in the doorway again, and…there was…something about the way the light was shining…she looked like a dark angel…

“Zima. Are you coming?”

He snapped back to reality, and followed her hurriedly out into the hall. The door closed behind us, and she started off…barefoot?

Zima followed Trainer through the corridors until she stopped at a door with a keypad. She punched in the code swiftly and pushed it open, a semi-circle of snow clearing away from the doorstep. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself…Trainer was in a tank-top and shorts…was she insane?

She walked through the snow, bare feet leaving virtually no prints, and led him to the small forest off to one side of the base…then disappeared behind a tree.

Zima frowned, then stumbled backward as an ink-black wolf as big as a horse came out from the other side of the tree. It dropped down and rolled around in the snow for a bit, then got up and shook off its fur before padding toward him. He scrambled back, wanting to run but not willing to turn his back, and ended up on his butt.

The wolf sat down in front of him, and…he recognised its eyes…

“Trainer?”

The wolf nodded.

Ice filled his veins. “H-how did you…”

She grinned cruelly. “Take a guess, Zima.”

He scooted back a little. “H-how is this possible.”

“This is what I am as much as the other form.”

Zima looked her over as she watched him.

“Is this why you asked me to come out here?”

She just grinned that wolfish grin.

“Why?”

Trainer stalked closer. “Run to the woods, Zima.”

He didn’t move. “Why?”

Her voice dropped to a growl. “Run.”

Zima ran, feet sinking in the snow, taking sharp turns, trying to escape the wolf on his tail. The trees started to blur together, his speed making his footsteps light until…he skidded to a stop in front of a curved rock wall. He looked for a way out, but…the only way was past Trainer. She was still grinning, and came closer and closer. He backed up against the rocks. She sat down, shifting back into human form with a shimmer of blue.

“Have a seat, Zima. They will not come looking for a while, and we need to have a talk.”

Zima sat slowly, his back to the rock. “Did I do something wrong?”

Trainer crossed her legs. “No. But you do not know the rules, and I would rather you not learn them as I did.”

“Oh…okay.”

“First, no matter who your handler is or what they tell you, obey your trainer primarily, with Sir's orders being the only thing above theirs.”

He nodded a little.

* * *

Weeks passed. Liron trained Zima hard, as hard as she had trained when she was younger, and already she could see improvement. His footsteps were already lighter than his previous soldier-march, even as quiet as he could make that, and he was beginning to move like an assassin. His grasp of the languages she had given him progressed rapidly, and slowly he was starting to speak more in Russian than English as she encouraged and did a  _little_  bit of influencing…maybe. He had a strong mind, full of light even with the tortures brought on by the war and Zola’s experiments, and she did not look forward to what she would have to do to it once his training was complete.

She had not had to report  _much_  to Sir, but there were incidents now and again. Mostly it was little glances beyond simply the assessing look of a trainer she was supposed to survey him with…her eyes tended to linger a little too long.

His hair was growing out, but it…it didn’t look bad…she actually liked it, if she was to be honest. So when he asked if he should cut it, she said it was fine, but not to let it get longer than his shoulders and to pull it back at least while training. He accepted that.

One day, word came that Natalia’s chosen…err…other partner? Liron forgot the word…Alexi Shostakovich, and his mission-partner Nikolas Orlov, had returned from a mission to St. Petersburg just an hour before. Natalia instantly ran to meet them, and Liron and Zima followed at a more moderate pace.  

Natalia and Alexi shared a very brief embrace, before Alexi and Nikolas looked at Zima.

“ _Who’s this?”_

“ _My trainee. Zima.”_

Alexi nodded. “ _Where are you from, Zima?”_

 _“I…”_  Zima looked at her, then back at the redhead. “ _I don’t remember.”_

Alexi frowned, and Liron made a face. “ _Zola.”_

Understanding dawned. “ _Ah.”_

“ _How was your mission?”_

“ _It was…tiring.”_

Natalia frowned at Alexi’s statement. “ _Then you need to rest.”_

Liron glanced over at Zima. He seemed…pensive, watching the two redheads with an odd look in his eyes.

Alexi nodded a little.  _“We have to report first, but then we will rest…and Nikolas needs to go to the medbay.”_

“ _I got shot a couple of times in the back; but I’ll live.”_

Liron nodded. “ _Well head off then, and we’ll see you when you’re cleared.”_

Nikolas nodded, and Natalia and Alexi helped him to the medbay.

Zima looked at her, a question in his eyes.

“ _Alexi is Natalia’s…_ ” She frowned. “ _I keep forgetting the word.”_

“ _Mate?”_

Liron looked at him in confusion. “ _What?”_

“ _A mate…life partner…I saw it in that Russian dictionary.”_

What an odd thing to be in that dictionary…but okay. “ _Oh…yeah. That works.”_ She headed back down the hall. “ _Back to training.”_

About two hours later, Alexi, Natalia, and Nikolas re-joined them in the shooting range.

Natalia watched Zima shoot for a while, then spoke. “ _Nikolas and Alexi wanted to get to know Zima a little.”_

Liron nodded. “ _That is fine with me.”_

Zima seemed unsure, and her tone turned reassuring.

“ _It’s alright, Zima, they don’t bite.”_

Alexi chuckled. “ _No, the only one who bites is you.”_

She mock-scowled at him, then turned when someone called her name and left when the person said that Sir had summoned her.

* * *

Zima watched Trainer go, then turned back to Agent Romanova and the two men.

The willowy one looked him over. “ _Remind me your name?”_

_“Zima…sir.”_

He laughed.  _“Don’t call me sir, Zima. Is it just Zima?”_

 _“Yes s…_ ” No, don’t call him sir.

He smiled. “ _Call me Alexi.”_ Alexi offered a hand, slender and long-fingered; matching well with his tall wiry frame.

Zima shook it, then turned as the other one spoke.

“ _And I am Nikolas, his mission partner.”_  Nikolas was broad and dark-haired, shorter than Alexi and Zima both, possibly an inch or less taller than Trainer, but no more than that.

Zima’s brows furrowed. “ _Does everybody have a partner for everything?”_

Nikolas frowned a little, then nodded. “ _For missions at least. Though time-to-time we are assigned solo ones.”_

_“How did you two become partners?”_

_“We were assigned to be. Natalia and Liron became partners because they refused to be separated...and because Liron kept killing her handlers.”_

Agent Romanova nodded. “ _Eventually Sir got tired of that, so he assigned her to my handler and she immediately tamed down...well, almost immediately.”_

_“Why did she kill all her handlers?”_

The woman hesitated for a moment. “ _…you’ll have to ask her.”_

_“Oh, alright.”_

Just at that moment, Trainer returned, facing Agent Romanova first.

“ _Madame is coming.”_

Agent Romanova frowned deeply.

Zima looked at Trainer. “ _Who is Madame?”_

Something dark and dangerous flickered in her pretty eyes. “ _The…woman who trained Natalia and I.”_

He almost said something else, but then a woman walked in and everyone stood at attention, Trainer and Agent Romanova’s faces smoothing and hardening into masks of ice. Zima studied her as she approached…the only single word he could think of to describe her was severe. Ash-grey hair in a severe bun, severe blue-grey eyes that searched and struck at weaknesses and faults in a single glance...Zima shivered a little as those eyes looked over him, and almost  _relaxed a little_  when they turned to Trainer.

“ _Is this the one Sir mentioned, Snowflake?”_

 _“Yes Madame.”_  Trainer sounded  _wrong_  like that…was Trainer afraid? That was the only reason Zima could think of for why she sounded so…cowed, subservient.

Madame huffed a little. “ _You have been practicing?”_

_“Yes, Madame.”_

She nodded, then walked off. “ _Show me.”_

Trainer and Agent Romanova followed, tension barely visible in the way they walked. Alexi and Nikolas looked at each other, then followed along as well. Zima trailed along in the rear, not really sure what was going on.

Madame led them to a room that Zima hadn’t seen before; wooden floor, large windows on one wall and a huge mirror covering another, and a piano in the corner between the two with a record player beside it. As pretty as the room was, a chill went down his spine.

“ _Do you wish us to change, Madame?”_

_“Of course.”_

Trainer and Agent Romanova disappeared into a small side room, emerging in powder-pink leotards, tights, and pointe shoes…was that dried blood on the floor by the piano?

Zima blinked, then looked at Alexi and Nikolas for an answer, any answer, as to what was going on.

Madame turned to Alexi and made a gesture at the piano. “ _Shoskatov. Your choice.”_

Alexi’s hand twitched, and he strode across the room, sitting down on the bench. He seemed hesitant.

Nikolas tugged Zima close to the wall as Trainer and Agent Romanova take places in the middle of the room, facing the mirror.

Zima looked at him, keeping his voice as quiet as possible while still being heard. “ _What are they doing?”_

_“Dancing…of a sort. I just hope she doesn’t pull us into it…and that she keeps it at simple dancing.”_

Zima frowned. “ _We’d have to dance too?”_

Nikolas shook his head as Alexi began to play something on the piano. “ _If we did, that would not be so bad. No. She would have us attack them.”_

Zima’s brows furrowed in worry…he didn’t want to attack Trainer…not on someone else’s orders. “ _Why?”_

_“Because that’s what she does.”_

They fell silent and turned to watch as Trainer and Agent Romanova began to move.


	4. Chapter 4

 

* * *

 

Madame luckily did  _not_  draw Zima and Nikolas into the dancing, and the demonstration passed without injury, something that Alexi told Zima was rarer than he would think. After the demonstration, Madame pulled Trainer off to the side for a ‘private chat trainer-to-trainer’, leaving the other four alone in the hallway.

Zima stood silently, waiting. Had Trainer done something wrong? He hoped not.

Eventually Nikolas and Alexi had to leave to make their report to Sir, leaving just Zima and Agent Romanova to wait.

He crossed his arms, right pointer finger unconsciously tapping on his left bicep. Agent Romanova looked over, but he was too occupied with the floor to notice.

“ _Zima.”_

He looked up.

“ _She will come out alive.”_

He nodded. “ _Why does Madame seem so…cold? I mean, when I was in there, I felt like the chill of death had come over me.”_

Agent Romanova shrugged one shoulder, a haunted look flashing over her eyes. “ _She has always been so.”_

Zima frowned.

Agent Romanova thought for a long moment, then leaned on the wall, a tiger at wary rest. “ _Madame began training Liron and I, and twenty-seven other girls, at the age of four…though some of the girls were a little older…in something she had graduated from, something that had produced the most dangerous agents in the Red Room since its beginning; the Black Widow Program. By the end of the program, Liron and I were the only ones left, and the only reason there were two of us is that one, she deceived them to save my life, and two, she was never truly a part of the program in the first place.”_

Zima’s brows furrowed, and his frown deepened. “ _How is that possible? If she was never in the program, how could she be trained?”_

 _“The program was the only way she could be. She was in it in reality, but officially..._   _I do not know much about the technical side of it, to be honest. You would have to ask Sir about that.”_

A smacking sound rang through the air from the room Madame and Trainer were in. Zima jolted and his head snapped to the door, then to Agent Romanova. She frowned.

“ _What’s happening?”_

_“I do not know.”_

Zima shifted uncomfortably.

After a few moments of tense silence, Trainer and Madame reappeared in the hallway; one of Trainer’s cheeks was red, but her expression was completely blank, and she did not seem to feel the sting it surely was causing her. Zima’s eyes widened in worry at the same time as his hands curled into fists in anger. Trainer gave him a look and shook her head minutely. He forced himself to relax, and the corner of her lips quirked up in the tiniest of smiles, almost like a thank you.

He looked her over, trying to see if there were any more wounds, but aside from the slap-mark, she looked just the same as she had before. He looked at Madame, and she looked back, hard eyes just daring him to speak out and reap the consequences.

“ _M-Madame?”_

_“Yes, Soldier?”_

_“Why did Trainer receive punishment?”_

_“Because she deserved it.”_

Zima frowned, his hands curling into fists again. “ _She didn’t deserve anything. She did what you asked.”_

Madame gave him a faintly amused, but mostly stern look. “ _You do not know what you are talking about, Soldier, and I suggest you keep your mouth shut in cases such as these. What went on between Snowflake and I is between us, and none of your business.”_

His ability to speak Russian flew out the window in his anger, and he surprised himself with his boldness. “She’s my trainer! So it damn well is my business!”

In the corner of his sight, Trainer tensed. Madame’s eyes flashed, and the younger woman stepped between them.

“ _Please forgive him, Madame, he has only been here less than a handful of days, and does not yet know the pro-...”_

She raised a hand, and Trainer went quiet. “ _Then teach him, or next time it will be on your head."_

_“I understand, Madame.”_

Zima’s anger grew and his metal hand whirred a little as it unclenched and clenched again at the exchange, wishing to throttle the demon in human skin that was Madame.

Madame left, and Trainer turned to face him, her voice sharp…but somehow simultaneously pleading.

“ _Don’t ever to that again, Zima. Please.”_

_“She can’t do that to you. It’s not right.”_

_“Whether it is or not, for you to do something like that will only make it worse.”_

His hands and shoulder relaxed. “ _I’m…sorry.”_

Trainer sighed.  _“I forgive you, but I need to add a new rule to the ones I told you earlier. Do not fight Madame; it will not end well.”_ Her eyes flickered with memory.  _“Believe me, I have tried.”_

_“Yes Ma’am.”_

“ _Good boy.”_ A tiny, sad smile touched the edge of her lips.

He just stood there for a moment. “ _Are you okay?”_

Trainer’s smile faded, and she turned down the hall…Agent Romanova had already left, it seemed… “ _Come; we need to finish your lesson.”_

He followed, frowning.

* * *

 

That night, Liron left a set of handcuffs on Zima’s bedpost, just in case he wanted to use them, and said nothing when he expressed his confusion. He didn’t look too sure about it, but she offered no explanation. The things had become the oddest of comforts to her and Natalia, and from what she had heard of the previous graduates, it had been the same with them, especially once they started using cuffs that were rigged to come apart easily.

“ _I don’t mean to be disobedient or rude, ma’am. But I find it a bit…strange.”_

She looked at him. “ _Why is that?”_

_“I’m not used to it…and I find it uncomfortable when you have it on. And I always toss and turn in my sleep.”_

_“Ah. Well, you are not required to wear it.”_ It wasn’t a familiarity to him, and that…was okay. But didn’t everyone do it?

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“You have nothing to apologise for.”_

_“I feel like I’m disobeying.”_

_“The way you sleep is up to you.”_  There was a reason why there weren’t cameras or microphones in the individual rooms, after all.

Zima nodded, and Liron put her book away and laid down, pulling her blanket up over her shoulders as her new cuff clicked around her wrist with a tendril of blue light. The lights flicked off by themselves.

After a few minutes, she heard a familiar clink coming from Zima’s bed, and while she didn’t register it outwardly, the fact that he had accepted her attempt at an offer of security even with hesitation both made an odd feeling of warmth gather in her chest…and her heart sink…why did her heart sink?

She stayed awake a bit after Zima’s breaths evened out into the rhythm of sleep, but not for long, and as soon as she drifted off, a memory-nightmare pulled her under.

**_The room was completely bare, and too clean… She shivered, though not with cold. She wanted to go home. She wanted her mama and papa._ **

**_The door was locked; she’d tried that…and it was so quiet…except when there were footsteps. Sometimes a little window in the door would open and a face would appear, peering down at her, but no-one brought food or drink or even some form of company._ **

**_She didn’t know how long it had been. She was getting desperate. She was so lonely…and hungry…and the room was so sterile…_ **

**_She found a chance when the person came again; hiding just out of sight, and when the person opened the door to see why they couldn’t see her, she tried to dart between their legs into the hall behind them._ **

**_They caught her, threw her back into the room, saying something sharply…she couldn’t understand their words. She curled up on the floor, thinking…maybe she could come up with a plan, like what papa and uncle did sometimes._ **

**_After a while, a woman came in, a small tray of food on her hand. She tried to see a way out behind the woman, but the woman locked the door again before she could, so she simply watched the woman, silent as the woman spoke and moved closer._ **

**_She scurried back. The woman frowned and slowly put the tray on the floor, scooting it toward her with her foot. She watched the woman carefully. She may not know how long she’d been there, and she may have been too little to listen in, but she knew from one of papa’s lessons with her brothers that she should be scared for poisoned or drugged food._ **

**_The woman left, and she slowly crept closer to the food, smelling it and poking at it...it didn’t seem off…just bread and a few vegetables…it didn’t smell wrong..._ **

**_She took a tentative bite of the bread. It was a little stale, but tasted fine. She waited a bit…it wasn’t poisoned. Even if it was, though, she would still escape this place…just...without her body. She started wolfing it down, and when it was all gone she pushed the tray toward the door and curled up in the corner. She shouldn’t sleep, but she was tired…_ **

**_She awoke to the sound of footsteps, and curled tighter, looking up. There was a man in the doorway, his hand behind his back. She uncurled and scooted to the side, trying to find a way away._ **

**_He spoke, but she couldn’t understand him any more than she had the woman or the others. He approached, and pulled a syringe of some kind from behind his back. She tensed, and darted out of the way when he tried to grab her, but his hand still closed on the back of her dress._ **

**_She squirmed, flailing and trying to strike at him to get free. His hand closed in her hair, and she yelped, then bared her teeth, a growl lower than would be expected rumbling from her chest. The man was visibly startled, and his grip loosened. Her foot connected with the space between his legs and he dropped her. She bolted for the door and into the hallway, colliding with a different man._ **

**_No matter how hard she struggled and snarled and fought, they still managed to tie her up, and they tossed her back into the room. She writhed and twisted, trying to wriggle out of the ropes._ **

**_After a while, a new man came in, crouching in front of her. She growled, then choked and whimpered when he grabbed her throat, looking at him blankly when he said nonsense similar to what the others had said, hitting her again when she still didn’t respond. He pushed her away roughly and left. She curled up as best she could and sobbed until she could no more._ **

Liron awoke as curled as she had been in the dream, fresh tears on her cheeks and her wrist a little raw from twisting in the cuff. She scooted up the bed a little to ease the pressure on her wrist, then wiped her face and tried to go back to sleep again. When sleep didn't come, she checked the time and let a sheath of ice surround her, set to melt in a few hours. Her eyes slipped shut as the ice closed over her face, and she fell into a dreamless slumber.

Morning came, and she and Natalia awoke before Zima, getting ready for the day quickly.

He woke up just after they had finished, and Liron glanced at him. “ _Dress swiftly; training continues as soon as we finish eating.”_

After breakfast, they headed to the shooting range, and Liron set the range to moving targets. Zima hit all the bullseyes with every clip he emptied. She hid her smile.

“ _Seems I do not need to teach you how to shoot_ at all _.”_

His smile was blatant.

“ _Hand to hand, however…that will take time.”_

_“How long do you think?”_

_“I am required to teach you as much as I know...that will take...approximately fifteen years.”_

Zima nodded a little.

“ _Of course, there's languages...though that's already been taken care of...and the rest of spycraft. But we'll be doing a lot of it all at the same time; the Black Widow program was about sixteen years of constant training. This will be close to the same.”_

Natalia chuckled. “ _If you were a little girl and Liron was authorised, you'd be a third-gen Black Widow when she was done with you.”_

The corners of his eyes crinkled a little as he chuckled, his smile fading as Liron returned to professionalism.

“ _Clean and put away the gun, then lead the way to training room nine.”_

He was hesitant, but he found the room quicker than she expected.

“ _Well done.”_

_“What are we doing first?”_

_“I want to see everything you know about hand to hand combat, even if it takes all day.”_

_“Yes ma’am.”_

Liron leaned on the wall as she watched him move, making mental notes about what he needed to fix, and conjuring up water when he needed it. Several hours passed in that training room, but because there were no clocks, Zima could not know that.

“ _It seems I won’t need to teach you quite as much as I thought.”_

He panted a little, wiping his mouth. “ _Is that good?”_

_“Perhaps.”_

_“Is there anything else you want me to do?”_

_“Is there anything else you want to show?”_

He shook his head, and she joined him in the middle of the room, crooking her finger as she walked and beckoning him closer.

“ _Punch me.”_

_“What?!”_

_“Punch me.”_

_“Why?”_

_“I find it’s easier to learn things if they’re felt first.”_

_“Oh…”_

Something…shifted in his stance, and she tilted her head minutely.

“ _I…I don’t want to hurt you.”_

Liron quirked a brow. Had she heard him right? “ _Come again?”_

He shifted foot-to-foot, nervousness in every line of his body. “ _I don’t want to hurt you.”_

A few moments passed in silence, before she started laughing. Zima stared at her, confusion completely overriding the nervousness. She calmed quickly.

“ _You couldn’t hurt me if you tried; you won’t even make contact unless I let you.”_

_“Oh…where do you want me to hit you?”_

_“You choose.”_

He looked her over, then struck toward her stomach. She saw his shoulders move and flowed into motion, batting his hand out of the way and grabbing his wrist, wrapping him up in one of the very few flowlocks smoothly. He struggled; she held him still for a moment, then batted away his side-strike when she let him go.

A ripple of disbelief flickered her eyes when he struck with both hand at the same time, each fist aiming for one of her sides. Really? She grabbed his wrists and yanked him forward, her knee coming up to just barely touch his groin, their noses almost brushing. His eyes were so pretty…what?

Zima blinked a little, then used his heavier mass to pull them to the floor, trying to pin her down…she got on top of him and pinned  _him_  down. She kept him there for a moment, using only the strength that an ordinary human would have; he rolled them over and she kicked him off, flowing onto her feet.

Their stances were almost mirrored when they faced each other again before Zima leapt into the air, trying some sort of flying…thing. Was he trying to kick her in the head with both feet? Why?

Liron sidestepped casually, waiting for him to crash to the floor. Her brow quirked, just a tiny bit impressed, when instead of falling he landed on his feet. He staggered, but he was upright, and the look in his eyes showed his surprise more than she felt.

“ _Well done.”_

He straightened. “ _Are we done?”_

_“Are you sleepy?”_

_“No, just thought you said ‘well done’ as in we’re done.”_

She gave him a look. “ _You landed well.”_

_“Oh…thank you ma’am.”_

They went to bed late…or rather he did. Liron and Natalia could not sleep, so they stayed up training until dawn broke.

* * *

 

Zima’s brows furrowed in confusion when he woke up alone in the room, but shortly after he sat up, Trainer and Agent Romanova came in, sweaty and dishevelled, leaning on each other. It almost looked like at least one of them was limping.

Zima blinked, then stood as Agent Romanova detached from Trainer and meandered into the bathroom. Trainer grabbed some clothes from her partner’s wardrobe and handed them through the door, closing it once she was empty-handed.

He stared a bit at the closed bathroom door before looking at Trainer. “ _Where did you go, Ma’am?”_

_“Training.”_

“ _Oh, okay…ma’am? If you leave again, and I wake up early, and you’re not back, what am I supposed to do?”_

_“Get dressed and go to the mess hall. If you do not see me by the time you are done eating, return here and practice your languages.”_

He nodded. “ _Yes ma’am.”_

She nodded back and got some clothes for herself, then disappeared into the bathroom…while Agent Romanova was still in there.

Zima frowned a little. The two women already didn’t seem to have a sense of privacy or anything, but…was it normal for them to shower at the same time? What if they were…together? They were so close…but what about Alexi, then? …did it matter to him, really?

Trainer and Agent Romanova left the bathroom about twenty minutes later, clean and dressed, hair braided back. Zima stood and held the door open as the three of them headed to the mess hall, and was met with confused blinks. Okay then.

Alexi and Nikolas joined them for breakfast, the redhead kissing Agent Romanova on the temple as he sat, and then once breakfast was over the two men joined them for Zima’s next training session until they and Agent Romanova were called away. Zima smiled goodbye, then looked back at Trainer just as she popped her neck, frowning slightly.

“ _You okay?”_

She seemed surprised by his concern. “ _Yes. You remember what I showed you yesterday, yes?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Show me.”_

He did, and a warm feeling blossomed in his chest when she smiled a tiny bit and said he did well…before they sparred and she kicked his ass quite soundly.

Once Zima recovered enough from that to practice more, he did so, Trainer keeping an eye on him as she did something else several feet away.

Weeks passed, full of practice and sparring and more practice and more sparring…but it wasn't as bad as the first few days …but it wasn’t as bad as the day before…Zima was getting used to it at least a little bit. There was no way it wasn’t as bad because Trainer was going easier on him. Honestly, he didn’t think she  _ever_  would go easy on him for  _anything_. Especially if he took in what Agent Romanova had said about if he was a little girl and Trainer was authorised he would be a third generation Black Widow. The red-haired woman had said that Madame had been the first to carry that title, and even from what little he’d seen so far, Zima knew without a doubt that if he was going to go though something like what made Agent Romanova and Trainer as good as they were, it was going to be hard and it was going to involve a lot of pain.

The last sparring session of the day, Zima finally managed to use his greater mass and height to his advantage instead of a stumbling block against how fast Trainer was, and got her pinned to the floor, unable to move as far as he could tell.

Their noses were almost touching…he could  _almost_  hear her heartbeat…was she wearing perfume? She smelled  _really_  good…her eyes were so pretty… Zima’s mind started to wander a little, feeling trapped in her gaze. Were her eyes  _glowing_?

She swallowed a little, her tongue darting out to lick her lip as her head lifted, leaning closer…before smacking him hard in the forehead as her elbows jolted to her sides, freeing her wrists from his hands. Her legs slipped out from under his, wrapping around his waist as they rolled until she was on top, sitting on his waist.

Zima groaned and blinked, dazed, and when his sight cleared to the new position they were in, the odd warmth in his belly spread lower, only to fade a little at the pain of the armbar she put him in and then return at how her breath fanned over his neck…she was so  _close_ …

Her hips rolled against his, and he shuddered, a small noise slipping out. His eyes fell closed, his hands fisting up as his breathing became a little laboured.

“ _M-ma’am…what…what are you doing?_ ” And, even with the armbar putting much more tension in his shoulder than he would like, why did he not want her to stop?

“ _Testing you. Do you yield?”_

 _“What if I do?”_  What would she say? He…he didn’t want this feeling…he wished he could remember what it was called…to go away…but at the same time it felt wrong. She was his  _Trainer_. Was it even allowed?

“ _Then I let you go?”_

_“And if I don’t?”_

_“I will hold you here until you yield. I will not break your shoulder; that would take too much time to heal.”_

A decision was made. “ _I won’t yield.”_

An idea popped into Zima’s head, and he planted his feet on the ground, grinding back up against her in a mimic of what she did. Trainer huffed softly, her jaw tightening a little next to his ear, but her grip did not loosen. That little sound made the warmth only grow stronger, and he did it again.

Trainer squeezed his hips with her thighs and pressed his wrist closer to the floor, putting more tension on his shoulder, and he winced, stopping. Okay, maybe that wasn’t a good idea.

She held him there for a while, and eventually he moved a little, trying to break free on his own. She put more pressure on his shoulder, and he yelped.

“ _Okay! I yield!”_

Trainer released him and got off of him, offering a hand once she stood. He accepted it…she held his  _maybe_  a little longer than normal, then checked her watch.

“ _Are you tired?”_

“ _At the moment; but only because of the training.”_

_“How tired?”_

_“Not very.”_

_“Then it’s time for you to learn something new. How flexible are you?”_

Zima’s eyes widened. What could she possibly mean by that? “ _Uh…I-I can only stretch a little.”_

_“Then that is what we’ll work on first. Show me what you can do.”_

He obeyed, stretching everything he could think of as far as it would go, ending with most of a bridge from standing. “ _That’s it.”_

She quirked brow. “ _When we’re done, you’ll be able to do – among other things – this.”_

His eyes went wide again as she brought her foot up and tucked her calf behind her shoulder in a standing split for a moment.

“ _I can’t do that!”_

She put her foot back on the ground. “ _Not yet.”_

Zima’s mouth went dry as Trainer popped her neck absently. He was not going to be ready for the soreness.

“ _But before you can do that, you need to be able to do other things. Face the mirror, put your heels together, and point your toes out.”_

He obeyed, frowning a little. “ _It feels funny.”_

_“It will for a while. Now put our arms out like you are holding a large ball directly in front of you, and you are in first position.”_

He obeyed again, and cringed internally. “ _I feel stupid, ma’am.”_

 _“And?”_ She didn’t seem to care. “ _In all bluntness, get over it. You’re only just starting. At least you’re not four.”_

Zima glared at her through the mirror, and her eyes were hard when they locked with his.

“ _Cut the attitude, Soldier.”_

He frowned a little, but tried to do as he was told, standing at ease when she told him to.

“ _First position.”_

He went back to how he was, still feeling stupid.

“ _At ease.”_

He relaxed.

“ _First position. Pretend that you’re graceful.”_

_“Graceful?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“How do I do that?”_

_“Think smooth.”_

_“Oh.”_

Trainer nodded. “ _First position.”_

Zima did it again, trying to be more graceful…for all that he felt like an idiot, he wanted to make Trainer proud.

“ _Better. Again.”_

A little tiny warmth bloomed in his chest at the praise, and he relaxed and went back to first position again, and again, and again, and again until she raised a hand and stood a little differently.

“­ _Spread your feet to about shoulder-width and open your arms; second position.”_

He looked at her, then mirrored her stance. She adjusted his position a little, and though her hands were as cold as usual, something made his skin almost tingle a little when they touched him.

Trainer stepped back to where she was. “ _At ease.”_

She ran him through that position as many times as the first, and then had him go back and forth between them until she seemed satisfied that he was making them flow enough. Each time she praised him, he tried harder, wanting all the more to make her proud of him, and she seemed to notice, adding the tiniest of smiles from time to time. That blooming warmth grew.

“ _Relax.”_

Zima shook his arms out a bit, rubbing them with a bit of a yawn.

“ _Sore?”_

He nodded. “ _Yes ma’am.”_

_“Too sore to learn more?”_

That took some thought as he rolled his shoulders. “ _…n-no, ma’am.”_

Trainer nodded shortly, then looked at her watch only to shrug and face the mirror again, moving into what must be third position. He copied her and she adjusted his stance as she had with second, and the repetition began again. Fourth followed third, and an attempt at fifth followed fourth, though he…just…couldn’t get his legs to twist right for the foot placement on the last.

By the time Trainer said he could stop, Zima’s arms and especially legs burned, and while he didn’t think he was tired, yawns broke free every once in a while and his head felt like it was full of cotton.

“ _Need to sleep?”_

He shrugged.

“ _That’s not an answer, Zima.”_

“I’m not tired, ma’am.”

“ _By the sound of your language you are.”_

“But I’m not.”

She quirked a brow.

“I’m just a little tired of the Russian.”

Trainer switched to English as well, her accent a little heavier than it was when he first met her in the medbay….hang on, he didn’t meet her in the medbay…?

He froze. “It’s not my normal language.”

“So? English is not mine.”

A long silence passed as Zima pondered, and he switched back to Russian. “ _Sorry.”_

 _“No harm done. Just remember at least when there are others around to speak Russian…just in case.”_ A bit of dark amusement glittered in her pretty eyes. “ _It wouldn’t do for Sir and Madame to find out that I am not doing my mission properly.”_

The corners of Zima’s lips turned down. What could that mean? “ _Yes ma’am.”_

The amusement faded back to neutrality. “ _Run through the positions again, and then you’re free to go back to the room.”_

He nodded and obeyed, feeling Trainer’s eyes on him like a hawk.

“ _Good. You still need a lot of work making them flow, but you’re doing much better than I had expected.”_

That warmth returned with a vengeance, and he looked over to see another of those tiny smiles…that was a little bigger than the ones before it.

“ _Thank you.”_

* * *

 

Liron watched Zima go, then started a few practices of her own, her eyes sliding closed as she moved about the room to a tune of her own imagining. Electric blue tendrils of light swirled about her body, leaving behind a leotard, Classical tutu, tights, and pointe shoes, all in black and sparkling with patterns of ice.

Eventually her steps became less random, coalescing into her half of the routine she and Natalia created as part of their graduation from the Black Widow program…

Madame said that the reason they all learned ballet as part of the program was for strength, flexibility, endurance, some pain tolerance, and grace. Liron understood that well, and while she hated nearly all that Madame had ‘given’ her, ballet was one thing she had actually enjoyed when she wasn’t doing it with broken limbs from ‘sparring’ with the other girls and didn’t have Madame’s cane smacking her about the body every time she made a mistake. It made her feel truly pretty, and as the half of her and Natalia’s team who spent most of their missions in the shadows as a phantom of death, feeling pretty was not something she could really get elsewhere. The dressing up for seduction and infiltration missions did not count.

She danced at varying paces and to various choreographies until her limbs ached and sweat trickled down her back beneath the leotard, the sparkling patterns glittering in the light of the rising sun beaming like molten gold through the windows.

Only when she felt the rays on her face did she stop, eyes still closed, chest heaving. She was exhausted, but glad that her movement had prevented her from falling asleep and falling prey to the usual nightmares.

The black-and-sparkles ensemble faded away back to her pants, boots, and blouse in a shimmer of blue, and she ran her hands over her face and through her hair. Her eyes opened slowly. She needed a drink.


	5. Chapter 5

 

* * *

 

Liron returned to the room, her exhaustion well-hidden. Natalia noticed – she always did – but said nothing. Her mind and scent flickered with concern, though, a concern that Liron put to rest with a quick thought letting her know she had only been dancing.

‘ _Why didn’t you invite me?’_  Natalia’s thought was amused.

Liron let a small smile glimmer in her eyes. ‘ _I didn’t know you wanted to join.’_

_‘I always want to dance with you when you dance.’_

The blonde inclined her head minutely. ‘ _We do do better as a team…’_

Natalia hummed softly in agreement and stood from her bed. ‘ _You need a shower.’_

 _‘Really?’_ Liron quirked a brow, playful sarcasm evident in the tone of her thought. ‘ _I had no idea.’_

Natalia rolled her eyes at her, and Liron smiled crookedly, then headed into the bathroom.

The redhead was waiting patiently, already ready for the day, when she re-joined her. She kept her voice quiet, and Liron leaned in a little unnecessarily.

“ _Are you going to wake him?”_

Liron looked at her trainee, head cocked to one side in thought. “ _Probably.”_

At some point during the night, he had removed his shirt and tossed aside the blankets, his torso fully on display. Liron allowed herself a tiny bit of ogling…before she pulled herself back into rigid control and shook his shoulder.

“ _Wake up.”_

Those pretty eyes opened slowly and met hers as she pulled back.

“ _Get dressed and meet us in the mess hall in ten minutes.”_

Trusting that Zima would follow that almost-order, Liron joined Natalia and the door and they walked together to get their food for the day.

It was less than ten minutes later when her trainee was sitting across from her in the mess hall, food in front of him, and she internally commended him for his speed; though she said nothing out loud. Alexi and Nikolas joined them almost simultaneously as was routine.

After breakfast, they went their separate ways; Nikolas to the gun range, Alexi and Natalia to…wherever, and Liron and Zima back to the ballet room so she could see how much he remembered from the night before.

* * *

 

Zima looked around the room briefly, then when she asked him to show her what he remembered, when through the motions as smoothly as he could, trying to ignore the soreness in his limbs. His efforts were rewarded with a smile.

“ _Well done, Zima. You’re doing better than I expected.”_

He smiled back. “ _Thank you, Ma’am.”_

The door opened behind her, and she did not turn though he could see in her eyes she knew exactly who had walked in…Madame.

“ _Do them one more time for good measure.”_

The metal-armed man obeyed, trying as hard as he could to conceal the animosity boiling in his veins against Trainer’s trainer at the same time as he tried to be as graceful as his body would let him. Where the hate came from he did not know, but he wanted to protect Trainer from Madame, and the memory of Madame’s handprint on Trainer’s cheek the other day made something spark dangerously in his chest.

Madame waited silently as Zima finished the positions, and remained silent as Trainer showed him a few new moves, watching like a particularly judging vulture. He glanced at her, anxiety and tension rising.

“ _Can you get your foot higher at all, Zima?”_ Trainer studied him as he balanced on one leg, one hand gripping the barre and his other foot close to his knee in what she said was called passé.

He tried…only partially successfully.

Trainer frowned a little and knelt down, her hands closing around his ankle and shifting his foot’s position a little. “ _That feel a little better?”_

He winced slightly. “ _It’s a little awkward.”_

 _“You’ll get used to it.”_  She stood. “ _You can put your foot back down.”_

Zima did, then looked at her.

“ _Show me all that I have taught you today.”_

After a few moments of thought, trying to remember, he did, trying to be as graceful as possible. His confidence grew when he noticed the teeny-tiny look of pride in Trainer’s eyes, and in result he managed to make himself flow all the more.

“ _Well done. You learn fast.”_

_“Thank you ma’am.”_

Trainer did not smile, but that miniscule glimmer in her eyes was still there. That bubble of warmth swelled in Zima’s chest again…until Madame approached and spoke, a level of sarcasm in her voice.

“ _Yes, very well indeed.”_

Zima frowned, as did Trainer.

“ _Do you have anything you would like to point out, Madame?”_  The younger woman’s voice was impeccably polite, her hands clasped neatly behind her back, but Zima could see the way her fingers curled out of Madame’s sight…the tension there. Zima’s blood started to boil.

“ _How do you expect to make a weapon such as yourself if you are kind to him, little snowflake?”_ Madame’s tone was chiding and patronising, and while Trainer’s expression did not change, one finger twitched. “ _Or must I teach you another lesson on how you are to behave?”_

_“With all due respect, Madame, he is my trainee as given to me by Sir, and he is the one who gave me instructions on how to train him.”_

_“Do not speak back to me, brat!”_

Madame’s hand rose, and a resounding slap filled the room as Trainer’s head whipped to the side, a red spot blooming on her cheek. Her expression did not change.

Zima jolted, on the breaking edge of just knocking Madame down and ending her. She had no reason to hit Trainer! But the look in Trainer’s eyes stopped him.

The blonde woman straightened and lowered her head. “ _My apologies, Madame. My intention was not to be insolent. I had not realised I was being over-lenient, and I will remedy this error when next I catch myself making it.”_

Madame nodded shortly and lifted her cane ominously. Trainer did not flinch. “ _See that you do.”_

“ _Yes, Madame.”_

It was only when the older woman looked at him that he realised how deeply he was glaring at her, and that his hands were fisted so tightly they were shaking.

“ _And get him under control before he breaks something that you have to pay for._ ” That proclaimed, Madame turned and left as if nothing had happened.

Zima’s mouth opened, but closed again when he felt a hand on his arm. He looked at Trainer.

“ _Do not antagonise Madame. It only leads to pain.”_ She took her hand off him.

He bit his tongue a little. “ _Sorry.”_

She didn’t look at him. “ _Apology accepted. Run through what I’ve taught you again.”_

Zima did as ordered, focussing specifically on trying to go slow and make sure he had his arms and feet in just the right places. When he was done, Trainer nodded once.

“ _That is enough for today. Go practice something else of your choice. Be aware that I will know if you don’t.”_

He nodded. “ _Yes ma’am.”_

Trainer almost seemed to maybe smile at him, then turned away. Zima looked around, trying to decide what to do, when Trainer began to move, what she had taught him flowing together until suddenly she was doing something he hadn’t learned yet, something complicated and difficult.

Then she was  _dancing_ , tendrils of blue light swirling around her limbs as her blouse and pants and boots melted into a leotard and tights and pointe shoes, all velvety black.

He stopped where he stood and stared; he couldn’t help it…it was mesmerising.

Trainer danced throughout the room, eyes closed, an expression on her face as if she was lost to the world…but somehow he knew she was  _very_  aware. He knew she was going to be angry with him when she realised he was still there, but he couldn’t stop watching. The dance was so beautiful…she was so beautiful.

Slowly, so very slowly that he almost didn’t notice, the dance melted into…something else. Something fiercer. Something darker. Something…dangerous. Tendrils of blue light swirled around Trainer’s hands, shooting out and colliding with invisible opponents. Flashes of what almost looked like perhaps they could be the blades of knives flickered in and out of focus in Trainer’s grip, slicing swift and sharp. And yet…even as deadly as the fight against invisible foes looked – and he was sure it was just as deadly in true practice – it was no less beautiful than the dance…now it was terrifyingly so.

Zima’s eyes widened, and he moved back so he wouldn’t get hit.

Suddenly Trainer stopped, her back to him and the light playing like blue lightning around her fingers.

“ _Enjoying the show?”_  There was an odd quality to her voice…almost derisive, almost just curious.

“ _Um, y-yes ma’am.”_

In a blur of motion, his back was tight against the wall, her body pinning him there solidly, her hand near this throat. “ _Is that so?”_

He stared at her for a moment, swallowing hard. “ _Y-yes…”_

His heart was racing, and he wasn’t sure if it was fear only, or…she was so  _close_ …was she wearing perfume of some kind? She smelled like roses and…something else...his head felt a little fuzzy…

Trainer leaned in, her breath fanning warm over the side of his face. Her voice lowered and softened, faint innuendo clear in her tone if not her words, making his predicament even…harder to deal with. “ _Would you wish to participate?”_

Zima licked his lips, his voice dropping a little and gaining a huskiness he didn’t know he had as his pupils dilated, little details that he hadn’t noticed before coming into focus. “ _Yes.”_

Trainer’s lips curved into a small smile, parting to let out a soft breath. “ _I hadn’t planned to have you spar with me today, but I see no reason in waiting when you show such interest.”_

She nosed lightly at his pulse point, and the feeling of her skin on his was electric. His eyes slipped half-closed, warm thrills running through his body and something deep, deep, so deep he  _just barely_  noticed let out a faint growl.

Trainer nosed at his pulsed point again, and he felt her breathe in slowly before the hand not near his neck came up to rest on his chest, fisting in his shirt a little. She pressed just a tiny bit closer…

Another growl bubbled up in Zima’s chest, and this time it actually passed his lips, a little desiring smile curling his mouth as he met Trainer’s eyes…they were so beautiful…he could drown in them in this moment and be grateful that they were the last thing he saw, that her body on his was the last thing he felt.

The hand not fisted in his shirt caressed his neck, and he leaned into the touch, his eyes slipping closed. Something deep in him…the same thing that growled, maybe…liked this more than just his body and outer mind did. That deep thing took the scent hanging about her, the roses and two other smells he couldn’t identify, wanted to immerse itself in it, wanted him to keep her there so it could have that scent always, wanted  _something_  he could not name.

Her thumb ran gently along his throat as her body pressed even closer, her nose brushing his pulse point again as she let out a soft hum as if of pleasure.

“ _You know, Zima, everything is a chance for a lesson in this line of training…”_

He growled softly again and nuzzled at her. “ _Wh-what do you mean?”_

She licked his earlobe slowly, and he shuddered in pleasure.

 _“One of the most important lessons as an assassin…”_  The hand fisted in his shirt pulled him a tiny bit closer. “ _…never let your guard down, even in assumed safety.”_

Zima opened his eyes, a little confused, only to a moment later find himself on his back, Trainer straddling his hips with her hand around his throat, squeezing just enough to make breathing difficult and to be just a little painful.

“ _You must always be aware; an attack may come from any quarter, and a target – if you’re up close and not sniping – will often try to bargain, plead, or seduce their way out of your mission if they know you are coming.”_

His jaw worked, fighting for air even as his face flushed at the feeling of her sitting like that. He tried to speak, but Trainer settled a little, pressing him down with her hips even more so than her hands, and all his words left him. A realisation was starting to settle in the back of his mind…a realisation of how he was starting to feel toward Trainer, even through he’d only been in her presence her for, what, a few weeks, maybe a month?

Once he got his air back, however, he remembered what he was going to say. “ _Can you teach me?”_

“ _To be on guard? Today was a test.”_

“ _The seducing part.”_

She released his neck, and he breathed heavily, rubbing at it. “ _You’re not there yet.”_

His voice was hoarse. “ _When will I be?”_

_“That depends on your progress in other areas…and if you need to learn at all.”_

Zima frowned, still rubbing his neck. “ _Why wouldn’t I need to learn? You said it was required.”_

Trainer got off of him and stood. “ _Seduction itself, maybe not. Learning how to combat or ignore it, yes. It is probably unlikely that you will be taking a role alike to mine, with extremely little undercover work, especially that would require seduction.”_

“ _Oh.”_ He sat up.

“ _In fact…go practice marksmanship with all weapons you can; I am going to go find out exactly how much I am supposed to teach you, or if you really are basically to go through an adaptation of the Black Widow program.”_ She started toward the door, her ballet ensemble melting back to her usual clothes with a shimmer of blue.

Zima watched her go, wondering a little why his eyes lingered, then relaxed a little and got up to make his way to a training room.

* * *

 

Liron padded as silent as usual through the halls of the base to Sir’s office. When she knocked, it took a little longer than normal for him to reply.

“ _Enter.”_

The office was a little darker than normal…

“ _Are you busy, Sir?”_

_“Come in.”_

She wondered at the non-answer and obeyed, approaching the desk.

Across from Sir sat a young woman with dark-brown hair…a quick surface scan revealed her to be eighteen years old and a trainee agent of Leviathan, the Red Room’s sister organisation.

Sir indicated the young woman. “ _Liron, I would like you to meet Yelena Belova, Leviathan’s answer to you and Agent Romanova.”_

Liron stepped forward with a nod, silent and awaiting elaboration or orders. He said nothing, so she took a hesitant leap, keeping her tone deliberately neutral. She did not know if the Red Room and Leviathan were allies or competitors at the moment.

“ _Why is she here, Sir?”_

_“She is touring the Red Room.”_

Miss. Belova turned to Liron, squinting her eyes ever so slightly like a snake.

Liron nodded a little. “ _Do you have time for a quick question regarding Zima, Sir?”_

Sir inclined his head minutely, then looked back at Miss. Belova. “ _Go see Madame, she will show you around.”_

Miss. Belova nodded and stood, giving Liron another look-over as she left and letting out a little superior ‘hm’.

Liron quirked a brow, then walked closer to the desk, taking the seat that Miss Belova had been in. “ _What exactly, or rather, how much exactly am I required to teach Zima?”_

“ _Everything you can. We cannot hold anything back.”_

She nodded. “ _So essentially teach him all that I learned, yes? Make him…a male Black Widow?”_

“ _Yes.”_  Sir smiled. “ _He will be the best joint agent ever to live and one of the best assassins to ever live…and it will all be because of you.”_

Liron’s cheeks pinked a little, and she dipped her head, trying to hide her joy at the praise. “ _Thank you, Sir. …I wish we could keep him; he has a lot of potential. To have another agent like Natalia and I would benefit us greatly.”_

The older man nodded a little. “ _Yes.”_

_“Would it be possible for you to re-work the deal with HYDRA so that we can keep him or get him back after some period of time?”_

He thought for a while. “ _I’ll have to ask.”_

Liron nodded, wondering at the odd little warmth in her chest at the thought of Zima staying. “ _Thank you again, Sir. Am I dismissed to return to training Zima?”_

_“Yes.”_

She saluted with a smile, then left the room, closing the door behind her. Once she was out in the hall, Liron focussed on her trainee’s scent and followed it to the gun range.

Zima was firing a rifle, hitting the mark each time with beautiful precision…and seemed a little bored.

_“Unload and clean that one, then grab a few knives.”_

* * *

 

Zima had known when Trainer came in, even though she was dead silent…he just  _knew_. Something different…a shift in the air. He nodded in response to the direction and obeyed, cleaning the rifle thoroughly before returning it to its place.

* * *

 

Liron watched Zima’s hands perhaps a little more intently than she should. They were large…a good deal larger than hers; but then again Natalia’s hands were bigger than hers and Natalia was smaller than she was, so that wasn’t much of a stretch…large, and he was skilled with them…deft fingers. She shook her head a little, snagged an extra knife from the shelf, and jerked her head for him to follow.

She led him to one of the empty training rooms. “ _I remember you said you have not actually fought with knives, so now that you are better at just hand-to-hand, I believe it is time to start you with_ some _knife work.”_

Zima nodded and shifts his grip on one of the knives in his hands, getting a feel for it.

“ _First, I assume you know the proper way to hold a knife for fighting?”_

He nodded again and adjusted the knife in his human hand, fixing his hold.

“ _Very good. Now, you said you know how to kill with a knife, but not how to actually fight with one, yes?”_

He nodded a third time.

Liron frowned. “ _Is something wrong, Zima?”_

_“No Ma’am.”_

_“In that case, answer verbally when I ask you something. I may have inhumanly good hearing, but I cannot hear head nods.”_

_“Sorry, Ma’am.”_

_“Apology accepted.”_ She looked him over. “ _…are you sore from earlier?”_

“ _My knees are a little sore.”_

Liron nodded a little, then glanced at the door. “ _Madame wants me to be as hard on you as she was on Natalia and I. I hate Madame. Put the knives down and stretch or whatever to settle your knees. You have five minutes.”_

She saw Zima’s surprised look from the corner of her eye as she turned and sat facing the door, a tiny huffing sigh that he could not have heard leaving her lips. She took the five minutes as a minute respite, a bit of the tension leaving her shoulders and back…she was sore too. Not that she would show it, nor was it for the reason he was sore. Madame did not like being challenged, and Liron had taken the fall for that a few days before while Zima was asleep.

He started to stand behind her, and she flowed upright with no indication she had relaxed at all. Her knives appeared in her hands from where she had stowed them.

“ _Face the mirror and get into a fighting stance.”_

Zima looked at her for a moment…did he suspect anything?...before obeying. She adjusted his stance a little, pushing down the odd little feeling in her chest when she touched him, and took one of his knives, standing off to the side.

“ _Show me how you kill with that knife.”_

He thought for a moment – not good; an assassin could not afford to hesitate – then went into a series of somewhat choppy movements that while he didn’t make them flow all that well got the job done.

“ _Not to bad.”_  She put down her extra knife and the one she had taken from him, mirroring his position. “ _Follow my motions.”_

Over-right, loop around to over-left, slow and smooth so he could see. In the mirror, she could see him mimicking.

“ _Good.”_

Now, under-left and loop to under-right, then once he’d mimicked that, she put them together, one motion making two x’s.

“ _Do that ten times.”_

She watched in silence as he obeyed the command.

It was several hours before they left the training room. When they did, Zima had learned a few new knife-fighting moves, and had practiced what of other things he had already learned several times over.

When they returned to the room, Zima instantly started toward the bathroom. “ _I’m going to get a shower.”_

Liron nodded, faintly amused. “ _Alright. Don’t take too long.”_

He half-saluted as he closed the door, and she  _almost_  let out a little laugh, then grabbed her nightgown and leaned on the wall to wait.

Her mind wandered, and the bathroom door opening snapped her back to reality just in time to see Zima meandering to his bed, completely shirtless. Her eyes tracked over his chest and back, noting a few bruises and a slight amount of muscle growth since he’d began training with her. His eyes met hers briefly, but he looked away too soon for her to tell any emotion in them.

Now that the bathroom was free, Liron picked up her nightgown again and went in. She made sure the door was closed for Zima’s sake – she personally didn’t care if he saw her; she was trained not to care after all – before stripping down and turning on the water.

A soft hum filled the little room, an old song that she couldn’t remember where she had learned it, as the blonde wolf-woman unbraided her hair and combed out the tangles so it would be easier to wash, standing naked in front of the mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Once her hair was taken care of, she tossed it behind her shoulder and poked and prodded at a few of her own bruises, looking herself over. Well…it was a good thing she wasn’t going to have any undercover-at-a-fancy-party missions anytime soon.

* * *

 

Zima sat on the bed and ran a hand through his hair before checking his own bruises. Some of them hurt and some didn’t. When he heard the humming, his actions stopped and he looked toward the door. He’d never heard anyone sing before; at least of what he remembered. He scooted on the bed to hear a little better.

The pattern of the water changed; she must have gotten in the shower, and she kept humming for a while before  _actually singing_. It was a song he couldn’t have imagined to have ever heard before, in some language he didn’t know. Her voice was lower than he’d expected it could have been, but so pretty nonetheless.

He laid back on his bed and listened, eyes half-closed.

Trainer kept singing until she was done in the shower, which wasn’t very long, and came out shortly after in her nightgown with her hair down…he had not realised it was _that_  long, since she kept it in a coiled braid on the top of her head so much…it was nearly to her ass.

Zima looked her over discretely for what seemed to be  _almost_ the first time, realizing how  _damn pretty_  she was. Nearly as tall as he was, minimal curves but so much strong muscle, soft-looking hair, eyes that that made his heart nearly stop... His mind slipped and he started imagining her differently…a dark blue satin dress with sparkles and bits of black, her hair up and her eyes outlined in black, making that brilliant blue pop out so vibrantly.

Trainer looked over at him, those eyes seeming to size him up like he was an opponent or under hard scrutiny. They locked with his, silent and stunning.

His mouth opened without his notice. “ _Why do you wear nightgowns?”_

One blonde eyebrow arched, her tone amused and almost taunting. “ _Would you prefer something else?”_

The blood drained from his face. Was that a threat somehow? “ _No, I was just wondering. It’s a bit chilly in here.”_

She shrugged one shoulder and sat down on her bed, a little bit of blue light threading through her hair and leaving it dry. “ _Cold is what I am used to. I may not be all that pretty to look at underneath this…”_ She waved a corner of the nightgown. “ _…but I have spent nights in the snow in just that, so a bit chilly does not bother me.”_

The corner of his mouth twitched downward ever-so-slightly.

 _“What?”_ How the hell did she notice that?

“ _I don’t think you’re not pretty.”_  Blunt…but hey, he didn’t have any other way to say that.

Trainer blinked. “ _Come again?”_

His eyes widened a little. “ _I-I meant you’re not bad looking…”_ He cleared his throat nervously. “ _I didn’t mean it in that way.”_

_“In what way did you mean it then?”_

Zima hesitated, his heartbeat picking up. “ _I…I don’t know…just trying to be nice.”_

_“So you were lying. That is a very bad idea.”_

_“No!”_ He sat up straighter with the outburst.

Trainer crossed her arms. “ _Explain then.”_

_“I…I think you’re pretty. I was just…wanted to make you feel better about yourself by telling you that.”_

Those stunning electric eyes glittered with dark amusement. “ _I do not find my appearance insufficient. It suits well enough for what I need it for. I simply am aware that a tapestry of scars is not usually desirable. Which I do not mind.”_

Zima bit his tongue this time. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, she  _was_  desirable, but then it would sound like  _he_  thought she was, and…he  _did_ , but that was a serious breach of protocol. Wasn’t it?

Suddenly Trainer stood and sauntered closer to him, her hips swaying. Her voice lowered and softened. “ _Are you one of the unusual ones then?”_

His eyes flickered toward her hips before locking back on her eyes, a heat rising inside of him. “ _What do you mean?”_

She stalked closer. “ _I said that a body like mine, scarred as it is, is not usually desirable…are you one of the unusual ones who thinks it is?”_

She was so close to touching him…the hair on his arms and chest stood up at the proximity of her oddly chill skin, but he said nothing.

She smiled seductively, and her voice was almost a songlike croon. “ _Answer me, Zima…answer me or counter me.”_

Nervousness coursed through his veins. “ _Th-the truth?”_

_“Truth is preferred in training, though on-mission it is not.”_

He chewed his lip. “ _I-I guess.”_

She frowned, seeming confused. “ _You guess what?”_

Zima hesitated for quite some time before he spoke. “ _I guess I am…one of the…unusual ones…”_

Trainer nodded a little. “ _Be aware that I will use this information against you when I am teaching you how to avoid seduction.”_  She sat back on her bed. “ _Good night, Zima.”_

“… _Night.”_

* * *

 

Liron did not fall asleep for quite some time, but when she did, nightmares…no, memories plagued her mind.

**_A few days had passed since the series of people had come in and attacked her…she was so lonely…she wanted her mama…and she wanted out. She’d done everything her four-year-old mind could think of to try to get out, but nothing had worked. They caught her each time, and she could feel that they were starting to get angry._ **

**_…they hadn’t come in with food for a long time…_ **

**_The door slammed open, and she started to move forward, expecting the food she was aching for, but instantly scrambled back when she found that they were not at all one person holding food like before._ **

**_There were at least five, all holding some kind of weapon that she didn’t know the name of, and all ones that she had managed to slip through the fingers of before. Most of them looked like ones that she’d accidentally harmed while trying to escape, but she wasn’t sure._ **

**_One of them, a man with close-cropped pale hair, grabbed her by the shoulder of her dress and hauled her forward. She tried to wriggle free from his grip and her eyes glowed a little as she tried to call on her magic, but the cold cylinder of one of those odd weapons pressed to the back of her head, and she went still with fear. She didn’t want to die…_ **

**_Someone cleared their throat and spoke sharply just out of her sight, and she tried to turn to look as the men went very still, fear hard in their scents._ **

**_Standing in the doorway was a man, sharp-featured in a dark-crimson and black uniform of a much more…important quality than those of the men holding her, his slicked-back brown hair holding the faintest hints of a steely grey that matched his eyes exactly and eerily._ **

**_He spoke again, and the men put her down. He crouched down closer to her level and opened an arm, those steely eyes kinder than any she’d seen since…since…last she saw her papa._ **

**_She wriggled out of the hands holding her, sparking them out of spite as she went, and ran to the kinder-looking man in red…he smelled like paper, some kind of food, and…what was called? Her naïve mind poked at his in question for the word she was looking for…порох. Gunpowder… something that helped those weapons work._ **

**_The man red scooped his arm under her and she clung to his jacket as he stood...he was tall; she didn't want to fall. He said something else, seeming angry, and the other men put away their weapons, talking over each other to try to make excuses._ **

**_They talked back and forth for a little, before the man in red just turned and left, carrying her with him. She poked around in his mind for a little bit, trying to find something to call him._ **

**_The man in red took her to what appeared to be some kind of study. There was wood panelling on the walls, and a rich rug over the floor upon which sat a relatively elegant wooden desk, high-backed chair, and a few bookshelves. The man in red set her down and the desk and sat in the chair, pulling out a piece of paper and writing something down._ **

**_When he showed it to her, she spread her hands helplessly. He frowned a little and spoke. She stared at him blankly. He pointed at himself._ **

**_“_ ** **_С_ ** **_эр.”_ **

**_He pointed at her and made a questioning sound. She frowned, opened her mouth, then closed it again. He clearly wanted her name…what was her name? Why couldn’t she remember her name? She spread her hands helplessly again, then mimed being hit on the head with a rock._ **

**_С_ ** **_эр frowned again, then seemed to get an idea. He pointed at her again. “Liron Irina Ruskin.”_ **

**_…was he naming her? She tilted her head and pointed at herself. He nodded._ **

Liron’s memory-dream shifted from there to complete nonsense, and she woke up not remembering what she had dreamt of at all.

Natalia and Zima were both asleep…she ran her hands through her hair and laid back down, closing her eyes once more, but sleep did not come.

* * *

 

Zima awoke to see Natalia, but…not Trainer. How odd. His questions of where she might have gone disappeared when the door opened to reveal her, sweat-soaked and a little bruised. She didn’t look at him, instead disappearing in the bathroom.

He got up and started changing into training clothes as Agent Romanova arose and did the same; shortly after, Trainer emerged from the bathroom dressed and braiding her hair.

Alexi and Nikolas did not join them for breakfast, and afterwards, he and Trainer went to the one training room to work on exercises.

Silently he ran through everything she asked him to, and when he was done she smiled.

“ _Well done, Zima.”_

_“Thank you ma’am.”_

…that smile made her look so beautiful…

“ _Since I am feeling lenient, what would you like to learn today?”_

It took a moment, but his brain caught up to what she had said. “ _Anything?”_

_“Anything. Though nothing too complex.”_

Zima nodded slightly, thinking for a few seconds before he decided. “… _What about seduction?”_

Trainer inclined her head. “ _If you want to learn it. Though I warn you that I am not the best of teachers for that.”_ Once he acknowledged he understood that, she rolled her shoulders. “ _A lot of seduction is about body language.”_

He frowned.  _“I thought it was just action.”_

She shook her head. “ _If someone came up to you and tried to seduce you, but were very obviously uncomfortable with it or uncaring, would it be very seductive?”_

“ _I…I guess not.”_

“- _And on the other side of things, Natalia can seduce with body language alone…it is rather fun to watch, actually.-”_

Well that was certainly a thought…could Trainer do that too? “ _Really?”_

Trainer nodded again, a slow smirk working its way across her face. “ _Would you like to see?”_

His jaw dropped minutely. “ _Uh…_ ” He cleared his throat. “ _Is…is that part of training?”_

_“You have to see it to learn how it is done. But don’t worry, I won’t have her do it on you.”_

His jaw-drop turned to a frown. He didn’t want her to do it on Trainer… “ _No, I mean would it be part of my training to learn how it feels and I can try to control my reaction?”_

_“Yes…why do you ask?”_

“ _Because I want to master all my training.”_ And he wanted to make her proud. But he wouldn’t say that.

Trainer gifted him with a tiny smile. “ _Determination is a good quality.”_

Zima smiled back, warmth bubbling up in his chest like it did every time she smiled at him.

“ _As it is, however, it would be better at this point for you to see how it works and then feel it.”_

His smile dropped a little.

Trainer quirked a brow. “ _What is it?”_

He shook his head, avoiding her gaze. “ _Nothing.”_

Her head tilted as he changed a glance back up, and her voice sounded like she couldn’t believe what she was saying. “ _…are you…jealous, Zima?”_


	6. Chapter 6

Zima chewed the inside of his cheek. “ _No ma’am.”_

“ _Good._ ”

His hands – folded behind his back – fisted up, the metal one whirring near-silently. He had just lied to Trainer…but though she  _surely_  knew he had, she said nothing about it.

“ _…Agent Romanova doesn’t have to come…you…you could do it if you wanted…”_

She seemed to consider it for a few moments before speaking.  _“Natalia is better at it than I, but I already know I have an advantage she does not, so perhaps you are right.”_

Zima relaxed a tiny bit. Trainer looked him over, and then she…shifted.

One second, her stance was usual – tall, strong, on guard, lethal yet relaxed; a cat or wolf not quite on the hunt – and then it shifted… _now_  she was on the hunt…yet a different kind of hunt than her previous stance would have suggested.

His eyes widened, and his heartbeat thrummed in his ears…this was so strange…

She had not moved, but now every line of her body screamed at him to touch, to hold, to kiss, to…her eyes were somehow darker and brighter and deeper, her lips somehow fuller, seeming softer…the lower one drew between her teeth for a moment before her tongue darted out to lick it slowly. The ends lifted into a sinful smirk that made his knees nearly buckle, her eyes gleaming and beckoning.

She slunk closer, hips swaying tantalisingly as if singing for his hands to close around them and pull her close. She started to circle him, and he could do nothing but track every movement…she had him trapped, and she’d barely done  _anything_.

He was stuck in his place, unable to move…he could almost  _feel_  her with how close she was standing to him, and with all of his being he  _wanted_. And…there was something oddly comforting, as if near her he was safe, between them.

Trainer’s smirk widened a little, and that tongue darted out to lick her lower lip again before she spoke, her voice soft and husky and sending tingles of longing down his spine.

“ _Now do you see, Zima?”_ The way his name rolled off her tongue as if she was tasting it… “ _With a skill like this, you could have just about any target in the palm of your hand.”_

Zima blinked and swallowed hard. His voice was rough and just as low, the words coming out with a little more…meaning than he really meant them. “Yes ma’am.”

One short delicate calloused finger trailed down the side of his face. “ _English, Zima? Is this having such an affect that you revert back to your birth tongue?”_

He blinked again, and tried to think about what he was saying, tried to force himself back to speaking Russian, but he couldn’t. “Sorry.”

“ _No harm done…”_

Suddenly the door slammed open, and Trainer moved back, her body language shifting back seamlessly from seduction to casually lethal.

“ _What is going on here?”_  Madame’s voice was sharp.

Trainer squared her shoulders. “ _I am teaching him seduction.”_

The grey-haired demon-woman’s eyes narrowed slightly. “ _I don’t think you were, Agent.”_

Trainer’s arms crossed, her back tensing minutely. “ _I was. I would have no reason to anything other than train him; I have your training to thank for that.”_

Zima kept his expression as blank as he could manage as he looked between the two women. He never was sure if Trainer had…feelings for him, even if he wasn’t entirely sure if he had feelings for  _her_. But he kept getting mixed signals. Sometimes she would…treat him like a person, but nicer, with little smiles that he knew were meant purely for him when she’d stand a little closer than usual…and sometimes she was his trainer simply and only. Now it seemed he would find out the answer to his wonderment…why was he afraid?

“ _You are lenient with him. Too lenient.”_

 _“He is my first trainee, and he is supposed to be HYDRA’s. I would rather not destroy him.”_  Was that a slight ‘like you did to me’ in Trainer’s voice, or was Zima just hearing things? Madame did not seem to notice it, so probably he was.

Madame also did not seem to have a rebuttal for that statement. “ _Be that as it may, you are not cold enough, not hard enough. How are you supposed to make him into what he is supposed to be if you let him do as he wishes? He is not supposed to_ have _wishes!”_

Trainer’s eyes flickered. “ _I do simply as my instinct and Sir’s orders tell me to. Whether or not my trainee has wishes is not my problem at this point. My orders are simply to train him until he is ready for the next step, which is not now, Madame.”_

Madame’s jaw tensed, but Trainer kept speaking. “ _He is my trainee, and my trainee alone, and with all due respect I am commanded to obey Sir’s orders only in regards to him, not yours.”_

“ _Insolent girl. I am your trainer, and you will obey me, as is protocol.”_

Trainer’s shoulders squared up a little, and there seemed to be a minute amount of fear in her eyes. “ _I simply follow what orders I am given by Sir. I am an Agent now.”_

“ _Nevertheless…”_

Zima snapped. “Look lady, she’s the best goddamn agent in this place, so she doesn’t need to take orders from you. So why don’t you just get back on your cane and hobble off somewhere else!?”

Trainer’s eyes widened as Madame turned to look at him, her eyes just as hard as her voice. “Is that so?”

He kept his mouth shut.

“Answer me.”

He squared his shoulders. “Yes ma’am.”

She points her cane at him. “ _You have not truly experienced what happens when a trainee is as insolent as you or Snowflake yet, have you?_ ”

Zima frowned a little. “No…ma’am.”

Madame’s smile was cruel. Her cane darted out and caught him between the legs,  _hard_ , before she turned and started to walk away. “ _Follow.”_

He grunted in pain, nearly doubling over and doing what he could to keep in his whimper. A harsh breath left his chest, his hands braced on his knees as he looked up at Trainer.

Her eyes were sympathetic, but…her voice and face were utterly blank. “ _I suggest you do as you are told…else it will be worse.”_

She took hold of his arm and hauled him upright. He nodded a little and followed slowly, wincing and widening his step a little.

Trainer trailed behind him as Madame led them to one of the cells, picking up another agent….one that Zima had learned  _hated_  Trainer…on the way.

“ _Madame…”_

The grey-haired demon-woman did not look at Trainer or even wait for her to finish before answering. “ _No.”_

He almost felt her silent sigh, before suddenly he was shoved forward into the cell, the other agent following. Zima just managed to turn around when a punch landed in his gut. He doubled over with a wheeze at the unexpected strike, only to be met with a knee to his already sore groin and a fist to his jaw. He fell to the ground.

The other agent kicked him in the ribs a few times, before Madame came in and stopped him.

_“That is enough. Has the point been made, Soldier?”_

Zima kept silent, save for coughing a little, slowly rolling up to his hands and knees.

Madame’s cane smacked against his metal arm, clanging loudly. “ _Answer me.”_

He winced a little. “Yes ma’am. But you’re still a bitch.”

The end of the cane struck the side of his head, hard enough to break skin, and he grit his teeth hard as he could to keep from yelping in pain.

“ _You will respect me, Soldier. Or you will pay for it.”_

He said nothing, glaring balefully up at her.

“ _Do you understand?”_

“Yes…ma’am.” He spat the title out with as much spite as he could muster.

“ _Good_.” Madame left, but not before stopping Trainer as she approached him with a grip on her arm that looked almost tight enough to bruise.

When Madame finally released Trainer’s arm, the blonde moved closer, presumably to help him up, but he stood on his own, holding his ribs. He spat a little blood onto the floor and ignored Trainer’s offered shoulder, feeling almost ashamed. Why was he ashamed?

“ _Zima, take my arm.”_  Her voice was surprisingly kind.

Zima’s eyes flicked up to look at her for a moment, and he slowly took hold of her offered arm. She grabbed his and pulled him upright, draping his arm around her shoulders…she still smelled like roses…he hurt.

Slowly and oh-so-carefully, they walked to their room, and Trainer sat him down on the closed toilet, a little groan escaping his lips.

“ _I’m going to have to take your shirt off.”_

He nodded, and she gingerly did as she had said. He winced.

“ _This will tingle.”_ Trainer’s hands – had they always been that cold? – brushed softly over his wounds, little sparks of blue light dancing on her fingertips. Gradually, the pain began to lessen, and the bruises started to fade.

Zima relaxed under her care, his eyes  _almost_  slipping to half-mast. Trainer’s smile was soft and ever-so-faint as she healed him, and when the pain was not much more than an afterthought, her hands seemed to linger just a little longer than maybe they ‘should’ have.

Suddenly he realised how close they were…their eyes met. Trainer straightened a little, which while it did bring her eye-level higher than his…it also brought them a little closer. His hand twitched slightly…he wanted to touch her so bad…but there was nothing he could give that she wanted, and nothing that he wanted that she would allow him to have.

“ _Zima…”_

He snapped out of his little trance. “ _Yes ma’am?”_

_“Please, please never, ever do that again.”_

He sighed softly, switching back to English. “I just wanted to protect you.”

Trainer stared at him. “ _Protect me? Why would you want to protect me?”_

“You’re my trainer.”

She shook her head a little, clearly not understanding his loyalty. “ _Why does that matter?”_

“You’re the only one that seems to take interest in me.”

One hand ran over her hair, and she looked him in the eye, switching to English as well. “Zima, you need to understand this. I am your trainer, nothing more. My interest is because I am your trainer; I am ordered to have no other interest. Whether or not I  _actually_  do does not matter. Do not give yourself false hope of  _anything_. The Red Room is not a place for hope.” She sighed softly. “No matter our wishes, we must follow orders. You have no orders but what I give you in training, but…I do. Do you understand me?”

Zima didn’t  _really_  understand, but he got the gist of it. However, really all he could think of at that moment was how much he wanted to kiss her. She was so… Before he’d registered what he was doing, his lips were on hers, pressing, asking…longing. Hers were chapped, but…

He wasn’t given more than a fraction of a second to think about it, before Trainer’s lips were gone from his and she was giving him a look that spoke volumes. Volumes of what exactly…that wasn’t very clear, but the majority of it was not good.

Shame coursed through his veins. He…he thought she wanted it?

Trainer stood. “ _Do not do that again, Zima. Especially not without permission. You do not want to travel down that road.”_

He frowned. “ _Yes ma’am.”_

She tilted her head, silent for a moment. “ _I think it is time for you to see exactly what you are being trained by. Put on a new shirt. I will be back shortly.”_

* * *

 

Liron strode toward the door. Maybe Madame was right…maybe she was being much to soft with Zima…he shouldn’t be trying to kiss her, that was certain.

Suddenly a large hand closed on her arm. “Wait…” Fear laced Zima’s scent. “Don’t tell Madame or Sir, please. I won’t do it again.”

She turned, forcing herself to be emotionless. “Sir ordered me to report to him of any…incidents such as that that may happen.”

“Please! I beg you. It was…unintentional.”

Liron frowned a little. “Why are you so afraid of this being known?”

“I don’t want to get punished again.”

“Sir would not punish you.”

“By Madame.”

“I will not tell her.”

He relaxed minutely. “Thank you.”

Liron nodded in welcome and continued on toward Sir’s office once Zima let her go.

She knocked, he bid her enter, and she told him what had just happened between her and Zima.

The older man frowned. “ _What do you suggest I do, then?”_

_“I do not suggest anything, Sir. You told me to report, so that is what I am doing.”_

He nodded. “ _He is your trainee. Do you feel the same way about him?”_

_“I do not know. I am not trained for such…types of feelings.”_

“ _What do you feel toward him?”_

Liron shrugged vaguely, hands spreading. “ _I do not know, but whatever it is, it’s something I am not prepared to deal with.”_

“ _Why not?”_

 _“I have not been trained for_ feelings _of any sort, Sir, save how to manipulate them in others. All due respect, Sir, but you know this.”_

 _“Yes, I do.”_ He thought for a few long moments, hands folded in front of his chin, before leaning back in his chair. “ _You may go.”_

Liron nodded in salute, no less confused than she was before, and left.

Zima did not look at her when she returned to the room, and was oddly silent. She let the silence stretch for a time before growing sick of it. Something was wrong.

“ _Are you alright?”_

He glanced at her and nodded slightly. She accepted that for another few seconds before frowning and just switching to English.

“What is wrong, Zima?”

Surprise rippled briefly through his scent, but he only shook his head. “Nothing that’ll matter to you.”

“If it is anything that will affect your performance in training, it does matter to me.”

“It doesn’t affect my training.”

“Are you utterly certain of that?”

“Yes.”

“Will it affect your performance in training later?”

“No.” So terse…but that  _is_  how eventually he would become, from what little she knew of what she was supposed to do to him once his training was complete.

“Very well.”

A few more moments of silence passed before Zima cleared his throat and she looked back at him.

“It doesn’t affect me training, but…I thought…you liked me.”

What? “…What?”

He sighed softly, and the look in his eyes made her chest hurt. Why did her chest hurt? “I thought you liked me. The way you looked at me and during training the other day…”

Liron’s lips pressed together, and when she spoke she deliberately made her tone unreadable, partially because she did not know herself how she felt. “I…I had thought that this would not need to be said, but since it must…” Her eyes flicked up to meet his, emotionless to emphasise her point. “I am known as the Ice Queen for a reason, Zima. I have…a fondness for Alexi and Nikolas, and Natalia…is very dear to me, but…I have known them for over a decade now, and Natalia has  _always_ been my partner. I do not have the capability for more than that. It is not what I was trained to be.” Why was she telling him all this? Why wasn’t she just brushing it off? What the hell was going on?

Zima blinked a little, then nodded minutely, those pretty eyes readable if she pried, but she didn’t want to pry.

Liron almost said something more, but then a familiar and unpleasant identity-scent hit her, and she went just a  _little_  still. Why was Madame there? The door opened, and Zima jumped.

The blonde wolf-woman turned, pretending to be nonchalant as she stood. “ _Madame. With all due respect, why are you here?”_

_“It appears that you have been more lenient than I had thought.”_

Liron frowned. “ _What do you mean?”_

_“You let him kiss you. Of all the things, little snowflake…”_

Zima spoke up. “That was my own fault. She punished me.”

“ _And still allowing him to speak English when you are well aware that he is not supposed to.”_ Madame turned to the man. “ _And you expect me to believe that you managed to successfully do such a thing at all without her turning you into a block of ice? I think not.”_

His pretty eyes went hard. “ _She didn’t expect it.”_

_“She should be experienced enough to anticipate any form of attack.”_

_“You weren’t here when it happened.”_

_“That does not matter. I hear everything.”_

Liron hid a snarl at those words. She certainly did NOT hear everything.

Her trainee’s hands curled into fists with a slight whirl of metal, his voice sharp.  _“I don’t care what you hear or don’t hear. You’re a human. You can’t be everywhere at once. Yes, I pointed out that you’re a human. One pathetic one at that.”_

Okay this was going too far. He’d been punished already today, and Liron didn’t want to see him punished again. She grabbed his arm. “ _Zima, enough.”_

Madame waved her off, pale eyes steely. “ _Let the foolish boy talk. He must have missed his lesson on the reward that insolence brought.”_

His pretty eyes were full of fire, matching the oddly sparking and sulphuric tinges in his scent. “ _Because I don’t respect you. I respect Trainer and Sir. Not you.”_

One greying brow rose. “ _Is that so? Why might that be?”_

Madame’s voice was heavy with challenge, and Liron suddenly realised why it wasn’t just her scent she’d smelled. There were at  _least_  four other agents hiding just out of sight in the hall.

“ _You’re heartless. All you care about is having control over everyone.”_

_“The little wolf training you has no more heart than I, Soldier.”_

Zima did not answer, and Liron almost spoke…until she noticed the faintest of sparks jolting around his knuckles…she would have missed them if that sulphuric tinge in his scent wasn’t making her a  _little_  more…aware than normal.

“ _Nothing more to say, Soldier?”_

His shoulders were tight, and the teeny-tiny sparks jolted a little faster.

“ _Trainer is far better than you.”_

Madame laughed. “ _You think so? She's a child, barely out of training...Sir's favour is the only thing she has aside from her witchcraft that keeps her from taking the path all the other failed Widow candidates took.”_

The corner of his mouth twitched, and then his fist was moving, aimed at Madame’s face. Liron was in the way in a moment, her hand – though it was so much smaller – closing around his and stopping it in its tracks.

“ _Zima, enough.”_

His eyes, their blue oddly tinged with the faintest of silver, snapped to hers. They stood like that for a single moment that stretched so much longer before he lowered his hand. He wanted to hurt Madame so much…Liron could  _feel_  it. She knew it in herself, but it could not happen.

She turned to face Madame. “ _His insolence is a lack of attention in my part, Madame. There is no need to punish him for my oversight.”_

The grey-haired woman shook her head. “ _Oh, you will be punished sure enough, but he will learn his lesson if he has to feel it to the bone.”_

Zima cringed, and Liron’s jaw clenched. “ _Madame…”_

Madame’s cane rose a little, and she flinched minutely.

“ _Do not argue, snowflake.”_ The devil-woman made a gesture, and the other agents that were in the hall entered the room. “ _Take him for punishment.”_

They closed in on him, and two of them took hold of each of his arms. Zima struggled a bit, but they didn’t let go, and escorted him out. Madame’s cane struck the back of Liron’s leg, and she followed silently.

* * *

 

Zima was brought to a door, and then inside the room belonging to that door. He tried to resist, but it was hard to not go somewhere when one’s knees have been kicked bent. He struggled, but they forced him in, and the door locked behind all of them.

His flesh hand closed on the back of one of the agents holding him, and threw him to the ground. One of the others struck the back of his neck, and his vision went spotty. He shook his head hard, trying to clear it, then swung…electric blue light surrounded his arm, stopping it mid-motion. He struggled, grunting, before his head snapped over to look as the door opened.

Trainer stood there, one hand raised – the fingers glowing that same electric blue. A whip hung coiled in her other hand, and Madame stood behind her with a small possible-smile. Trainer’s eyes were emotionless.

Zima looked between her face and the whip, confusion raging.

Madame gestured with her cane, and the light surrounded his whole body, dragging him to the chains hanging from the ceiling in the centre of the room. He struggled more, a slight panic rising, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t make himself move.

Two of the other agents ripped his shirt off, then locked him into the shackles. He fought at them, trying so hard to get free…to no result. The chains rattled like mad. Words too faint for him to truly catch sounded behind him, followed by the smack of a cane on flesh.

Zima flinched at the sound, and though he couldn’t look back to see what it was very well, he could guess well enough…he knew.

Steps neared and the whip cracked in the air…but it didn’t hit him yet. He flinched anyways.

Something seemed to poke at his mind…there was a voice other than his own in his thoughts.

‘ _I’m sorry, Zima.’_

…Trainer could mind-read? He shook his head a little, not really sure what to think of that.

The whip’s shadow on the wall rose and fell, and fiery pain lashed across his back.

Zima lurched forward, crying out. The chains and his muscles went taut, his breathing laboured.

A few seconds passed, Trainer letting him breathe, before the whip struck again, crossing with the previous mark. He lurched forward again, nearly losing his footing. A growl and…howl?...bubbled in his chest, but did not pass his lips.

This next time there was no pause. The whip struck again and again and again and again, soon breaking skin and drawing blood. Zima’s skin felt aflame when finally the whip stopped, and he panted hard, tears of pain welling in his eyes and his chest heaving.

Footsteps approached…something cold was behind him…he tensed.

Icy cold hands ran slowly down his back, fingertips tracing the wounds in a mimicry of how Trainer healed him earlier…but this time there wasn’t that tingle and odd sensation of skin growing back together…just cold. He clenched his eyes shut, and fell back limp as the agents uncuffed his hands and the cold hands wrapped around his waist, holding him up.

Trainer picked him up and threw him over her shoulder, giving him an excellent view…or what would be an excellent view if his back wasn’t on fire. He struggled a little.

“I don’ need yur help.”

She spoke in his mind again, her ‘voice’ unreadable. ‘ _If Madame sees you can still walk, she will order me to whip you more. Reject my help all you will when we get back to the room, but doing so now will only bring you more pain.’_

He sighed faintly before slumping back down, letting his head hang.

When they did return to the room, he rolled off of her shoulder as soon as the door was closed, staggering into the bathroom.

Trainer followed. “Would you like me to heal you?”

“I don’t need your help.” He braced his hands on the sink, still panting a little. He  _hurt_ so bad…

She hesitated in the doorway, then backed off. “As you wish.”

Zima closed the door, took of his clothes with no small amount of difficulty, and got into the shower. His hand fumbled a little as he turned the water on cold – sticking his head under the showerhead so the water wasn’t pounding on his back – trying to soothe the pain and wash away the blood. It stung, but the cold did numb his back at least a little.

He stood there for…maybe twenty minutes or more before finally getting out and drying off…he was leaving blood on the towel, but it didn’t seem  _too_  bad…

It was when he had his pants on that he felt blood slowly seeping out of the wounds again, and he sighed softly. He didn’t want to ask Trainer for help, she was the one who  _put_  them there. But…

He opened the door. “The bleeding isn’t stopping.”

The blonde…woman looked up from where she sat. “I can bandage you, or I can heal you. Your choice.”

Zima chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking. “…just heal me.”

Trainer nodded a little. “Turn around.”

He obeyed, and soon felt her cold hands on his back again, but this time everywhere her fingers touched tingled lightly with what he could only assume to be her magic, the torn skin and everything else growing back together to leave a small lattice of scars across his back.

He shuddered slightly, and something deep inside wished her touch would remain…but she finished healing him quickly, and stepped away when she was done.

“You should wash the rest of the blood off.”

Zima turned to look at her, but she was facing away. “…Okay.”

He did as she said, though the shower was considerably warmer this time. He dried off just as silently as before, thinking, and when he left the bathroom Trainer’s back was to him.

“Thank you.”

She didn’t look up from her book. “No thanks needed.”

He nodded a little and felt his back with his human hand, fingers running over the scars. Trainer kept reading, then spoke as he sat on his bed.

“You are not exempt from training tomorrow.”

Zima nodded again silently, and looked up when Agent Romanova came in. She did not look at him, and went straight to lying on her bed. Trainer lowered her book.

_“Are you alright?”_

_“The timetable was moved up.”_

_“Time-…oh.”_ Trainer closed her book and went to sit by her partner. “ _Do you know why? Has Alexi said anything?”_

_“I don’t think Alexi knows yet, and I don’t know why.”_

Zima frowned a little. Yes, he was jealous. Of  _course_  he was. He laid down, his back facing the two women.

“ _How much time is there?”_

_“A few months, tops. Probably closer to a few weeks. Depends on how soon everything else gets prepared.”_

There was a deep frown in Trainer’s voice, and…fear? “ _Sir won’t order us split up, will he?”_

Zima’s brows furrowed.

Sounds from behind him indicated Agent Romanova had rolled over and sat up. “ _He shouldn’t…I’m the only agent that can stand to be around you.”_

Trainer gave a weak chuckle. “ _True…though Nikolas doesn’t seem to do too bad.”_ The frown returned. “ _But it wouldn’t be the same…no-one else has the same experience with either of us as we do.”_

Zima bit his cheek, staying silent.

More shifting, and suddenly Trainer’s voice was softer than he’d ever heard it. “ _I don’t want to be split up.”_

_“Neither do I, Zolotse.”_

Zima closed his eyes, trying to find sleep.

Trainer and Agent Romanova talked for a time in soft tones, and as much as he tried to ignore them and his own feelings, that jealousy lingered like a prowling animal in the back of his mind. But eventually he started to doze, and their voices faded to silence.

* * *

 

Liron and Natalia fell asleep cuddling, and awoke early to possibly go talk to Sir before Zima got up. They knocked on his office door as one.

“ _Come in.”_

They obeyed. “ _Sir?”_

“ _Yes?”_

Liron was the one to ask, but Natalia’s hand rested like a comfort on the back of her belt where Sir couldn’t see…though Sir likely knew it was there. “ _Is this arrangement for Natalia and Alexi going to mean that she and I will be split up?”_

He frowned a little.  _“It is entirely up to you. It does not matter to me what you decide on for living arrangements.”_

_“Thank you Sir.”_

He nodded, and they left, hiding smiles. When they returned to their room, Liron hugged her partner tightly, a relieved grin spreading faintly across her face and the redhead hugging back just as tight.

After a few moments of just standing there embracing, Liron realised that there was a scent missing. She pulled back and looked around, and sure enough Zima was gone.

The two women looked at each other and each shrugged a shoulder before Liron started sniffing around. Eventually she followed his scent and Natalia followed her to the mess hall.

Liron stalked up silently behind her trainee, thumping her hands on his shoulders. To his credit, he didn’t jump.

“ _Sleep well?”_

_“Yes ma’am.”_

_“Good.”_

The two women got food, and as they sat down they and Zima were joined by Alexi and Nikolas. The meal passed peacefully, Natalia and Alexi speaking in hushed tones throughout much of it.

* * *

 

Zima looked at Trainer. “ _What are we doing today?”_

 _“Hand to hand, some ballet, and some seduction. If there is time, I want to see_ exactly _how good a sniper you are.”_

He nodded.

“ _Ready.”_

_“Yes ma’am.”_

She stood and headed to a training room; he trailed behind.

When they reach the room, she closed the door with a tendril of blue, then proceeded to study him.

“ _…Take off your shirt.”_

Zima turned in time to see her unbuttoning her blouse, and a sharp sense of relief ran through him when he saw she still had at least a tanktop underneath. He frowned in confusion.

“ _Why?”_

 _“You need to be able to fight and win in any situation…and any state of dress or undress.”_ She tossed her blouse off to the side, the long sleeves no longer hiding her muscles and scars…she had nice arms.

Something in his mind screamed at him not to. It wasn’t right for her to see him – the fact that she already had didn’t seem to matter.

She frowned. “ _What are you waiting for?”_

_“I’m not comfortable with this.”_

Her arms crossed. “ _Zima, I’ve seen you without a shirt before. I’ve touched your bare skin to heal it. It does not matter to me, and at this point it should not matter to you. The only thing that’re coming off are shirts.”_

That relief returned. “ _Oh, okay.”_  He stripped off his shirt, then followed her to the middle of the room.

“ _Attack.”_

Not sure if she just wanted something general or more specific, he led with just a punch…which she dodged smoothly before slapping his arm. Zima blinked. What was that for?”

“ _Again.”_

He made to do the same thing again, but changed direction last second. She dodged again, but didn’t slap his arm.

“ _Good_.”

He repeated the motion, and she  _almost_  let it make contact before she grabbed hold of his arm and yanked him close. Their noses nearly brushed

“ _If this were a real fight, you could likely be dead now. Do not let me pull you off balance so easily.”_

“ _Yes ma’am.”_

She released him, and then she attacked, one hand coming up like claws to slap at his face. He blocked it with his metal hand, and she smiled, crooked and seeming a little feral.

“ _Good catch.”_

Her hand rolled to grab his wrist, her other hand aiming a punch to his gut. His knee came up to block it as his human hand mirrored her strike and his metal one jerked out of her grip. Trainer batted his punch to one side, moving into the opening she made and making as if to jab him in the ribs with her fingers. He grunted faintly and made to punch her again. She batted it away just like the one before it.

Zima feinted a third punch, following up with a kick that…would have been powerful if she hadn’t just twirled out of the way and hit him with a spinning back kick as she finished the turn. Maybe she intended it or maybe she didn’t, but that kick sent him to the ground. Ow…

Trainer did not give him time to get up, instantly kicking him again in the ribs; same place. He took it, using the precious fraction of a second while it was there to grab her leg and twist it hard. She went down on top of him as her knee buckled, her hands planting on either side of his head.

“ _Well done.”_

He ignored the little tingle the praise lit in the back of his head and kneed her hard in the stomach. She grunted a little. One hand twined a hand in his hair, yanking his head to the side as her elbow came down hard on his shoulder.

Zima yelped and managed to shove her off, his teeth baring in a vicious snarl when her nails dug into the flesh side of his other shoulder, leaving near-gashes in his skin as she rolled off of him. A deep growl rumbled from his chest.

…Trainer was staring at him. He stared back, his eyes feral and his breathing alike to a wolf’s huffing pants. She bared her teeth at him, the points looking sharper than perhaps they should.

He stopped for a moment, before growling louder. She growled back, and her body language changed, becoming more predatory and…oddly hungry looking? Maybe that wasn’t the right term, but she clearly wanted something…or at least looked like she did. He snarled at her again, and then suddenly the feral feeling faded.

Trainer’s head titled, still an oddly animal look in her eyes just for a moment before she was back to normal. “ _Get up._ ”

He obeyed.

_“What are you?”_


	7. Chapter 7

Zima’s brows furrowed. “ _What?”_

_“What are you, Zima?”_

He blinked, surprised before a sense of harsh bitterness flooded him. “ _I don’t know what you mean. But maybe you should ask yourself that same question.”_

Trainer's expression went flat, and her body language turned hard, her eyes completely blank. “ _I know what I am. I am the monster that makes the cold wind scream. I am the ice underfoot. I am the obscuring snowfall. I am the lightning strike of a winter thunderstorm. I am the venomous beast in the shadows. I am un-human, inhuman, beyond human. I am the Ice Queen, the Wolf of the Red Room.”_

He stared at her…that sounded awfully…rehearsed. Unpleasantly so.

She looked back at him for a while longer, then flowed into a fighting stance. “ _Attack again.”_

Zima rolled his likely-very-bruised shoulder, then obeyed. What followed could only be really described as Trainer completely and utterly kicking his ass, and each time she jabbed him in the ribs or grabbed his neck or poked him in the chest or anything of that sort, she’d make a point of saying that in a non-training situation he could be dead. He fought back as best he could, and he did get a few good shots in, but ultimately it ended with him on his back on the ground, her foot on this throat.

He grabbed her ankle, and she pressed a little, not enough to restrict his breathing, but enough that there was no way he could  _not_  know it was there.

“ _Yield.”_

 _“…I yield.”_ He was done with this. It didn’t even feel like he was being trained anymore…just getting his ass kicked.

She took her foot of his neck, and blue light surrounded him, healing him and bringing him upright.

“ _Face the mirror.”_

“ _Why?”_

She didn’t look at him. “ _Show me what you remember of the hand-to-hand you learned in the army and that I have taught you here so far.”_

He obeyed, silent.

When he was done, he turned back to her…her eyes weren’t as blank as before…

“ _Show me what you remember of ballet.”_

He nodded a little and ran through the moves, focussing on being graceful. He missed the little glitter in her eyes, and payed as close attention as he could when she taught him a few more. He may be done with the ass-kicking, but he  _did_  still want to make her proud.

When she stopped him, it was with a glass of water in her hand.

“ _I cannot apologise for my methods of training. However, it was an oversight on my point for my grip on my temper to slip as it did.”_

Zima blinked a little, surprised by the…it was an apology, even if it was worded strangely. He softened. “ _I apologise as well.”_

Trainer held out the glass. “ _No need.”_

He accepted it and gulped it down…he hadn’t realised how thirsty he was.

When he finished she spoke, turned away ever-so-slightly. “ _Attempting to practice seduction on me will be no use, so I am going to bring in a newer agent for you to practice on.”_

“ _Who?”_

_“I have not yet decided.”_

He nodded.

“ _Run through everything again while I go make that decision.”_

* * *

 

Liron wandered around until she found a few junior agents and their mentors, instinctively choosing someone quite pretty as her ‘target’. She spoke with the young woman’s mentor – who luckily was  _not_  one of the agents who hated her – and the request was approved. She led the young woman back to the training room…it seemed Zima was running through everything a second time. Well done Zima.

* * *

 

Zima stopped his motions when he heard the footsteps, and turned to see another young woman with Trainer.

“ _Zima, this is Junior Agent Petrova. Junior Agent Petrova, this is my trainee Zima. You will be assisting me in his training by helping with his seduction practice.”_

He looked a little better at Petrova, unknowingly comparing her to Trainer in his mind. She was shorter, and there was something less…magnetic and electric about her, though she  _was_  very pretty. This would be interesting. He’d rather practice on Trainer, but…oh well.

Petrova looked him up and down in what was clearly an attempt to be calculating that ended up being just her checking him out. He noticed, but did not comment.

“ _How do you want us to start?”_

Trainer shifted her weight a little, getting into a more comfortable stance, perhaps? “ _What do you remember from what I showed you a few days ago?”_

_“The stance and emotion of it, and how to approach them.”_

She nodded. “ _Try to do it.”_

“ _Yes ma’am.”_

She moved out of the way to watch.

Zima looked at Petrova, and let his posture relax a little, more of a swagger in his step as he approached her, his eyes dragging up and down her form as if he was interested…and she  _was_  quite pretty, so it wasn’t all too hard…even though she wasn’t Trainer. Petrova watched him, shifting a little.

His hands moved on their own, resting gently on her waist as he moved closer. She swallowed a little and looked up at him, her heart rate picking up rapidly…but she was starting to a little uncomfortable.

He stepped back. “ _Sorry…”_

She let out a little breath and looked at Trainer. Trainer crossed her arms.

“ _He needs practice seducing and you need practice avoiding it.”_

Zima looked between the two women.

Petrova laced her fingers together, then unlaced them. “ _Agent Ruskin, practice may be needed, and I readily admit he has a minor advantage in this, but-…”_ She cut herself off. “ _Nevermind.”_

Trainer tilted her head slightly, but did not ask.

Zima spoke up. “ _I’m uncomfortable…but not because of you. It’s just the situation.”_

Trainer looked at him. “ _Care to elaborate?”_

“ _I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m not very comfortable with it.”_

She nodded a tiny bit. “ _That is to be expected.”_

Luckily for Zima, and perhaps for Petrova as well, Trainer proceeded to teach him some of the basics of seduction, emphasising on body language and expression for now. At some point Agent Romanova showed up, and Trainer convinced her to show how the specific things she was teaching him were  _supposed_ to work.

Seeing Agent Romanova demonstrating on Trainer made Petrova blatantly…something. He couldn’t tell if she was uncomfortable or interested just from looking out of the corner of his eye. However, he knew exactly how  _he_  felt about it, and that was jealous, with a decent side of sadness.

When they were done there, Petrova went back to her mentor and Agent Romanova went…somewhere else.

Trainer looked at him. “ _What is it? Your scent reeks of irritation.”_

He resisted the urge to cross his arms. “ _You know…”_

She raised a brow. “ _Do I?”_

Zima nodded firmly. “ _You know how I feel toward you. That’s why.”_

 _“You have a crush, Zima. Stop dreaming for things that are impossible. It is a waste of time. Believe me, I know.”_  There was that oddly flat voice again.

His brows furrowed, and he looked around. He didn’t want to say anything if Madame was in the area…but she wasn’t so… “ _What do you mean?”_

 _“Freedom and peace are not possible in this life.”_ She didn’t say that that was what she wanted, but…her tone made it clear.

Zima frowned. “ _Is that what you believe? Or just your way of telling me it can’t happen between us?”_

Her arms did cross. “ _You belong to HYDRA. As much as it would bring me pleasure to steal that weapon from them, it would not work.”_

_“How do you know?”_

_“Because HYDRA would come after us for your sake, at Zola’s bidding, and Sir’s punishment for me for that attack would be…unpleasant, even if he likes HYDRA no more than I.”_

“ _No-one has to know…”_

Trainer started laughing, cold and almost cruel to Zima’s ears. He cringed, and if she was looking at him she would find a great resemblance to a little lost pup in his eyes.

Her laughter cut off abruptly. “ _Sir would find out, and eventually so would Madame. Not to mention when your training is over you must be returned to HYDRA.”_

“ _But that’ll take years, like you said. And Madame and Sir are never around when we’re training or in the room we’re staying in…”_

She just looked at him. “ _I have been ordered to report back to Sir any…interesting…events that take place, as I told you after you kissed me, remember?”_

He nodded, not willing to give up. She  _called_  to him…more than just the thought of holding her close and making her smile, but something deeper, a sense of…something he could not name. “ _I know…but don’t you feel anything toward me?”_

“ _I am not afforded that option.”_ Her voice was flat again, uncaring, unemotional.

No. He wasn’t going to accept that. She was dodging. He had to have the truth. “ _If it were just you and your own opinion on how you feel…what do you feel toward me? I just…I need to know. The truth preferably.”_

“ _You are my trainee. That is all.”_

A little growl rumbled in his tightening chest. “ _No, that’s not it. Somehow I can_ tell _that it’s more than that.”_

Trainer’s stance shifted. “ _Then you are telling wrong. Give up, Soldier. It is my mission to train you, and I will obey my orders, nothing more.”_

Zima bit his cheek hard, his hands curling into fists before his shoulders slumped a little. “ _Yes ma’am.”_

Trainer picked up her blouse from where she had thrown it earlier. “ _Put your shirt back on and run through what I have taught you of hand-to-hand and knife.”_

He grit his teeth and obeyed the order.

* * *

 

Liron watched Zima train in silence, knowing she had to say what she did as she did. She was trained to not have ‘feelings’ for people , and therefore she would not allow  herself to let them show. Natalia did not count; Natalia was her partner, and…those feelings were a  _little_  different than what she thought she might be feeling around Zima.

It was much too early to tell. The facts that she wanted to treat him…kindly, and that something about him called to her were irrelevant. She would complete her mission, nothing more.

* * *

 

A few weeks later – in early May – Zima stared contemplatively and somewhat confusedly at a formal-looking uniform on his bed.  “ _I thought guys and gals here aren’t allowed to get together…?”_

Trainer shook her head, from where she was changing into something very similar to what was before him. “ _For the most part, Sir doesn’t care; hence the lack of surveillance in the personal rooms like ours.”_

Agent Romanova – already dressed and doing her hair – nodded. “ _But it is tradition since Madame was young for the Black Widow to be married…or otherwise ‘bound by law’…”_ She took her hands from her hair to make finger quotes. “… _to another high-importance agent to insure loyalty. Of course, it doesn’t guarantee what it means to…people are fickle and on a whole untrustworthy after all…but it’s worked so far.”_

That…did not help Zima’s confusion much at all, and Trainer noticed.

“ _What?”_

“ _I still don’t understand it.”_ He looked at her. “ _It’s like…people here can’t get married, yet they can…and somehow arranged marriages work out…”_

She pulled on her boots. “ _Sir doesn’t care if agents get married or not, but he arranges marriages for Black Widows. They've worked out in the sense that the Widows have never so far left the Red Room. Whether that actually has to do with the marriage or not...we don't know. Natalia is only the second Black Widow.”_

That…made more sense, he guessed. But… “ _I thought you were one too.”_

She shook her hair, a loose wisp of hair that’d fallen out of her bun swishing. “ _No. I just trained with them.”_ Her belt buckle clicked around her waist. “ _Get dressed; we need to be there soon.”_

Oh, right. Zima stripped down to his boxers with only some hesitation…Trainer and Agent Romanova weren’t looking anyways as far as he knew…and pulled on the uniform. Black pants and shiny boots, dark grey shirt, and crimson jacket with a shiny black belt…it fit pretty well, and when he looked in the bathroom mirror to comb back his hair, he saw exactly how  _well_  it suited him.

“ _Who’s is this?”_

_“I…don’t actually know. I think it’s just one of the ones that was in storage.”_

“ _Oh.”_

_“Ready?”_

He nodded, and the three of them trooped to Sir’s office.

When they arrived, Alexi and Nikolas stood off to the side, both in very similar uniform’s to Zima’s, Alexi’s hair tamed and combed back like his…though the redhead’s was still longer. Petrova wasn’t there.

Sir stood, and Alexi and Agent Romanova approached the desk, signing the papers that sat there before Trainer and Nikolas signed them as well as witnesses. All in all, it was very anticlimactic and felt…strange.

Zima glanced at Trainer, only to see almost an odd look in her eyes…like…longing? But for what? For Agent Romanova? But she’d seemed so happy…well, as happy as he’d seen her…when Agent Romanova was happy about getting married…if this could be called a marriage. But what else could she be longing for? Surely she didn’t want marriage itself…

He watched her for a bit…something in his chest hurt a little. He ignored it. She said to get over his ‘crush’ on her, so he would have to. And anyways, all she did was hurt him.

* * *

 

Over the next year and a half, Zima’s skill in everything he was learning skyrocketed…he retained the information easily, and the continual practice Liron put him through paid off excellently. But although he was progressing fantastically, he still had a long way to go. The Black Widow program took sixteen years of constant training; Zima would not reach the same point in much less time at all if any.

Aside from training, Liron could see Zima beginning to grow away from her…at least as much as he could considering their lack of relationship…and slowly toward Junior Agent Petrova. Perhaps a large part of that was Liron’s having him practice seduction on her and then Petrova’s mentor taking the opportunity – with permission – to have the young woman do the same with him, but however it happened, it happened. Liron pretended not to care, and to a degree, she really didn’t. His crush on her was not useful anyways.

Petrova and her mentor started coming to the meal with Liron, Zima, Natalia, Alexi, and Nikolas.

One day, Petrova’s mentor approached Liron with a question. “ _Do you mind if we discuss their training together?”_

Liron nodded. “ _In private?”_

“ _Doesn’t matter.”_

_“Alright. What did you wish to say?”_

“ _I have been given another assignment, and I was wondering if you could keep an eye on her until I come back.”_

She nodded again. “ _I can.”_

“ _Thank you. Also…she’s been a little off in her training ever since we put them together. Why do you think that is?”_

Liron kept her tone level. “ _I have a theory, but I would not prefer to jump to conclusions.”_

_“What is it?”_

_“She is attracted to Zima.”_ Not a hard thing to do, if he’d managed to make she herself quite possibly attracted to him…when she didn’t do that.

Petrova’s mentor frowned a little. “ _I should have expected that…but is there enough evidence?”_

_“Not from what I see.”_

The other agent nodded. “ _If anything happens before I come back, I want to know before I report to Sir.”_ Oh good…not too afraid of her to ask favours like that.

“ _I will let you know.”_

* * *

 

Just out of earshot, Zima and Petrova were eating. Every now and again, he’d glance at her, and she smiled when she caught him. The corner of his mouth twitched up a little, not enough to be considered a ‘proper’ even half-smile, but it was still there.

When they had finished, he offered to take care of her dishes for her, and she accepted.

He returned quickly. “ _So…when is your mentor leaving?”_

_“Tomorrow.”_

Zima nodded a little.

“ _She said she would talk with Agent Ruskin about her keeping an eye on me while she was gone.”_

_“I heard…”_

Petrova smiled again. “ _I wonder if that means I’ll be moving to the room you’re in?”_

That brought a proper smile to Zima’s face. “ _Maybe.”_

The smile dropped when Trainer returned to the table.

The blonde finished her food quickly, took care of her dishes, and beckoned them both to a training room. Petrova’s mentor joined them along the way.

When they arrived, she leaned on the wall. “ _You decide what to practice.”_

…this had to be a test somehow…she never said that without it being a test of some kind. But…

Zima looked at Petrova. “ _What do you want to do?”_

_“Hand to hand?”_

He nodded, and they both moved into fighting stances. He took a more defensive position.

Petrova attacked first with a punch to his gut that he deflected and a kick to his groin that he simply sidestepped, then followed them up with a backfist to his head.

His hand closed around hers, and he hooked his leg behind hers when she tried to kick out his knee, dropping back and bringing them both to the ground. She tried to get mount, but he rolled them so he was on top, and his metal hand wrapped loosely around her throat.

Petrova squirmed and struck at him in key points that if she’d done any harder likely he would have released her…then suddenly went still, her eyes darkening a teensy bit.

Zima blinked, confused until it dawned on him exactly how they were positioned. His chest tightened a little as a faint flush crept up his neck, and his hand on her fist slipped down to her wrist.

She swallowed, and he could feel it against his metal hand before she licked her lips a little. He…honestly didn’t know if he should let her up or not.

Petrova smiled a little suddenly, and her body language changed, the look in her eyes beckoning him closer…his heart skipped a beat or two, and unconsciously he leaned closer. Wait a minute…should he be doing this? Especially in front of Trainer? …it didn’t matter. Trainer didn’t care.

Suddenly Petrova headbutted him hard enough to stun him a little and managed to wiggle free as he rolled off with a groan. She stood with a giggle in her eyes before moving back into a fighting stance. He did the same, without the giggle, and waited for her to attack again.

She began to circle him. He watched her, then grabbed her leg and threw her into the air when she came in with a  _really_  impressive high kick. She tried to land on his shoulders and do the  _fairly_  classic Black Widow move, and…did better than she could have.

He didn’t see that coming, and hadn’t actually  _seen_  the move up close…he grabbed her legs, trying to pull her off. When that didn’t work, he grabbed the back of her hair and shirt and pulled back, just enough to get his metal arm up between her torso and his face to force her off of him and onto the floor.

Petrova fell into a roll, tumbling back to her feet.

Trainer’s voice sounded from by the wall. “ _Don’t let her do all the work, Zima.”_

Zima glanced at her…she was unreadable. Well…alright then.

He charged at Petrova, feinting a punch only to drop last minute into a dead-on tackle. Petrova went down with a grunt. Instantly he crawled on top of her, holding her down, his hand on her throat. She grabbed and struck at him. He pinned her arms and legs with his other hand and  _his_  legs.

_“Stay down.”_

She looked up at him. He looked back at her, a slow smirk curling across his face.

“ _Your seduction won’t work this time.”_

“ _And why is that?”_

His voice dropped to a near-whisper. “ _Because it’s my turn.”_

She bit her lip, and he could feel her heart beat a little faster as his body language shifted.

* * *

 

Liron watched on the side-lines as Zima and Petrova laid there and stared at each other. She hoped they were just taking advantage of the situation to use weaponised seduction…for lack of a better term for it…but she had a slight feeling that that wasn’t quite true.

She shoved her feelings about it…all of them, no matter what they were, to the back of her head. It didn’t matter to her. It didn’t matter. It didn’t. It couldn’t. She wasn’t trained to want. She wasn’t trained to be  _called by someone’s entire being_. That’s not what she was for. She was the Ice Queen, a Red Room agent, a weapon, Sir’s monster, the Wolf of the Red Room. Nothing more nothing less and there was nothing she could do about it.  


	8. Chapter 8

Liron tossed and turned in her sleep, another nightmare…memory…invading her consciousness.

**_She stood at Sir’s side, silent like she was supposed to be…Sir was nice. He gave her treats sometimes, and told the scientists to stop hurting her and poking at her head. And he gave her a new name too! …she couldn’t really remember her old one. Or anything before The Blizzard, for that matter. But it didn’t matter. She had Sir now. Sir was a strange name. But he was nice, and he kept her safe from the spooky man in grey that always wore a mask that told the scientists to see how she ticked and find a way to make her…obey. That wasn’t the word the spooky man in grey had said, but that was the word that Sir said it meant._ **

**_The sound of unfamiliar shoes sounded down the hall…Sir said she was going to be meeting a new person. She wondered who it would be, and she hoped it wasn’t another scientist._ **

**_But no, it was a woman, shorter than Sir, her reddish-brownish hair touched with the faintest hint of grey and her pale eyes cold. Liron shivered instinctively and pressed closer to Sir. He didn’t let her._ **

**_“This is Madame. She will be teaching you.”_ **

**_Suddenly she was standing at Madame’s side, looking into a long room of identical beds, each one holding a sleeping girl with her wrist cuffed to the frame. Flash. A redhead with jade eyes, smiling and whispering._ **

**_“Hello, I’m Natalia. What’s your name?”_ **

**_“Liron.”_ **

**_Flash. The other girls hated her…she scared them. She didn’t mean to… Flash. Forward in time. Leotards and tights and knives and fists. Flash. The neck of one of the meaner girls snapped in her hands at the order of Madame during a sparring session. It felt…oddly good. Why? It didn’t matter, Madame said._ **

**_Flash. Back in time again. Sterile white walls and sterile shiny scalpels. Red blood, grey patient gown. Flash. Lights in her eyes, sounds in her ears…what were they trying to do? It hurt. Something in her head growled. Flash. Words, words, words, the ticking of a clock, a swinging pendulum. Loneliness. Electricity._ **

**_Flash. Training, fighting, bruising, biting. Dancing, killing. A few more girls fell. Natalia kept winning. She smiled. Flash. Snow, cold, no food. Hunt. Find. Kill. Eat. Fur to keep warm and claws and fangs to feed and protect._ **

**_Flash. Someone was screaming._ **

Liron jolted awake…why was her mouth open?

In the bed beside hers, Zima was sitting up, staring at her. Natalia was as well, but the worry was much clearer in her eyes than his. Petrova was awake, but not looking at her at all.

Liron uncuffed her wrist and sat up, letting out a slow sigh and running her hands through her hair.

Natalia got up and disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a glass of water. Liron accepted it gratefully.

“ _Thank you, Lisichka.”_

Her friend sat beside her, and Liron leaned on her shoulder.

“ _I should have let myself stay up.”_

Natalia wrapped her arms around her, and she snuggled in a little.

Liron took comfort in her friend’s presence for a while…then remembered there were other people in the room. She sat up, but no-one was looking, so she snuggled back in again.

A few momre moments passed. “ _Do you want to go train?”_

Liron shook her head. “ _No.”_

_“You sure?”_

Her voice dropped low enough so that only Natalia could hear her. “ _I…I just want you to hold me.”_

The redhead nodded, then laid them both down and curled around her; a familiar position from when they needed it, though their positions often switched.

Liron closed her eyes, her hands entwining with Natalia’s. She wasn’t tired, the feelings of the nightmare…memory…keeping her awake, but she was very relaxed.

“ _Thank you, Lisichka.”_

There was a smile in her voice. “ _You’re welcome, Zolotse.”_

Eventually they fell back asleep, a thin cocoon of ice forming around them…they couldn’t have nightmares if they were in cryosleep.

Morning dawned, and the ice melted. They awoke at the same time, but Natalia was the first up and in the shower. Liron sat on her bed in silent patience. After a while, she grabbed clothes for Natalia and herself and slipped into the bathroom to sit on the counter to wait instead of sitting on her bed.

It didn’t take long for Natalia to finish, and Liron took her place as the other got dressed.

Zima was next while Liron and Natalia made their beds, and Petrova went after him before they all trooped to the mess hall. Alexi and Nikolas joined them as they sat down, Natalia and Alexi sharing a quick kiss.

Out of the corner of her eye, Liron saw Zima look at Petrova, and a tiny smile tease the junior agent’s lips. Liron focussed on her food. She didn’t care that Zima and Petrova were attracted to each other, not until it started interfering with their training. She didn’t.

She finished quickly and took care of her dishes, then waiting for the others to do the same. Once everyone was done, Natalia and Alexi left to go do their own thing. Nikolas tagged along to help with training.

“ _What’s for training today?”_  Zima sounded awfully bland.

“ _Since I have Agent Orlov’s help, I will be showing you a_ few _of the more advanced hand-to-hand techniques.”_

He nodded.

Once Liron and Nikolas had shown the two how to do the moves she determined and the two had practiced them enough for now, she turned to the man beside her.

“ _Agent Orlov, I believe my trainee has not yet sparred with someone other than myself or Agent Petrova...would you be so inclined as to lend him some experience in fighting with someone closer to his own build?”_

He nodded, and she looked toward the other two.

“ _Zima!”_

Her trainee turned, and came over when she beckoned him.

“ _You will spar with Agent Orlov.”_

“ _…oh.”_

Just ‘oh’? Alright then.

Junior Agent Petrova joined Liron by the wall as Nikolas led Zima into the middle of the floor.

Nikolas shifted into a fighting stance. “ _Your move.”_

* * *

 

Zima mirrored Nikolas’ stance, before trying a flying kick. Nikolas just stepped out of the way, letting him crash to the floor, then hard-blocks the following punch.

Zima blinked…it was like nothing to him. He tried a feinting high-low punch, and internally cheered when Nikolas took it…only to groan and stumble back when the shorter man gave him an uppercut to the gut and a knee to the groin, using the closer range to his advantage.

“----.”

Nikolas said nothing and just slipped back into his fighting stance, waiting.

They sparred for a bit, until at some point Zima grabbed at Nikolas’ shirt, trying to get him off balance, and the shorter man just slipped out of it.

…he had not expected there to be so much muscle. He’d heard a few other agents talking about Nikolas being built like a bear, or a tank, but to see it that blatantly…he was intimidated to say the least.

Nikolas gave him an odd look at the shock he was clearly displaying, then just tackled him to the ground. Zima tried to squirm away, but was unsuccessful as Nikolas gained mount pretty quickly and managed to get Zima pinned down and in an armbar. …not only was he muscly, he was  _heavy_.

“ _Alright, let him up.”_

Zima huffed a little as Nikolas got off of him and pulled him to his feet.

“ _Thanks.”_

He nodded. “ _You’re welcome.”_

Zima glanced at Trainer, then back at the other man. “ _How do you have so much muscle?”_

_“Lots of  training.”_

_“Really?”_

Nikolas nodded again. “ _And that’s just how my body works. Alexi has a bit more training than I, because he joined earlier, but he naturally has a more slender build.”_

_“Oh, okay…could I train with you and Alexi?”_

He looked over at Trainer. “ _…If your trainer permits it.”_

Zima looked over as well. “ _It’d be in the mornings.”_

_“I will think about it.”_

Later that day, Trainer gave Zima and Petrova a break for a few hours while she...did something. They were allowed to go anywhere they had access to in the base, but not to go outside. They decided to venture around the base, neither of them really familiar enough with the even with the time they’d spend there.

Petrova seemed to be in a good mood, but Zima was…irritable. Not that he was trying to be, he just…

“ _What is wrong, Zima?”_

He looked at Petrova. “ _Tense…Trainer has been frustrating for a while now.”_

_“Do you want to talk about it?”_

What had happened over a year and a half ago hadn’t really come up in conversation, and honestly… “ _Do you really want to hear a boring story about Trainer?”_ …he shouldn’t have been so rude in saying that. “ _Sorry.”_

She gave him a look. “ _I asked, didn’t I?_

_“Yeah…I guess…I don’t know though…I might get in trouble.”_

_“I won’t tell. And I don’t see anyone else around right now.”_

He looked around. “ _Alright.”_

She listened fairly intently as he told her just about everything.

“ _…and she just…she’s just so cold and hardly says anything to me anymore.”_

Petrova was silent for a while, then gave him a contemplative look. “ _She is called Ice Queen for a reason.”_

“ _I know that. But she treats me differently it seems.”_

_“She may just be trying to emphasise the fact that she doesn’t want you, or see you as anything other than a student.”_

Zima nodded a little. That made sense.

She patted his shoulder a bit, and he smiled ever so slightly.

They continued in silence for a while, before she paused.

“ _…Zima?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Is that your real name?”_

He started to nod, then thought a little. “ _I think so?”_

_“You don’t sound sure.”_

_“I don’t really remember my life before I came here…”_

_“Really?”_

He nodded. “ _All I remember is waking up in the hospital wing and Trainer was there. Then I met Sir and eventually Madame…but before that was a funny man in glasses. I think he was HYDRA. I’m apparently HYDRA’s property…”_

Petrova frowned. “ _That is…strange. HYDRA and the Red Room…well, we’re not enemies outright, but there’s not way we’re friends either. Especially not to the point that this would happen.”_

Zima shrugged a little. “ _I don’t get it either. But somehow they negotiated and I’m being trained her and then I go back.”_

_“Oh.”_

_“Yeah…”_

Petrova fell silent again, and they kept walking.

Eventually they came upon a big window overlooking the valley on the opposite side of the base as the forest. Zima stopped, having only ever seen the forest and the base itself, and watched the snow fall softly.

…he was being watched more intently than normal. He turned to Petrova. “ _What?”_

_“You’re just so…”_

Huh? “ _So what?”_

_“You are the most handsome man I have ever seen.”_

Zima blinked, and she smiled.

“ _You are.”_

He just stared at her. She moved closer, and he stepped back a little, not sure how to react. She stopped advancing, and he relaxed a bit.

Petrova moved closer again. This time he did not retreat, knowing there was absolutely not chance of it being some form of strange attack, and looked down into her eyes when she was directly in front of him.

_“Is this part of seduction training?”_

_“No.”_

“ _Oh.”_

She smiled a little, and slowly tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. His eyes slipped half-closed…that felt nice…

Her hand slipped behind his head and pulled his lips down to hers.

Zima’s eyes fell all the way closed, and he kissed back just a bit, still unsure. His hands rested on her sides as hers tangled in his hair.

He was honestly taken by surprise at this feeling…he knew that they should stop or someone would see them, but he couldn’t…it was addictive.

Petrova pressed closer, kissing deeper, and Zima gripped her hair a little as she wrapped one arm around his back.

Suddenly footsteps sounded from extremely close, and Petrova jumped back like a startled cat.

Zima did the same, licking his lips a little. “ _S-so how’s training been for you?”_ He asked, just in case the other person was curious.

Trainer’s voice sounded, completely emotionless. “ _I think you know well enough how her training is going, since for the majority of the time you are by her side.”_

…oh dear. He hoped so badly that she hadn’t seen… He looked over. “ _I know, but I don’t know how she likes it or whatever.”_

_“Looks to me as if she’s been liking it quite fine, if what I just witnessed was what I think it was.”_

\----.  Zima’s eyes widened slightly, and he looked at Petrova, who’d gone flushed, before back at Trainer.

Trainer didn’t seem to care much, but her eyes were a little teeny bit colder than normal. “ _I take it you enjoyed your free time.”_

He glanced back at Petrova…she didn’t seem very happy. His own expression turned worried as he turned once again to Trainer.

“ _What?”_

English slipped from him because he was so nervous. “Please…don’t say anything.”

“ _No-one who I could tell would care.”_

“…Are there any here?”

“ _In this particular area? No.”_

His shoulders slumped with a soft sigh.

“ _However, since I am Petrova's trainer, I am required to inform her trainer of this, and if this interferes in either of your training or missions, it will have to stop completely.”_

Zima swallowed a little. “It wasn’t her fault…it was mine. If you’re going to tell her trainer about this, then tell her that.”

“ _Is that true, Junior Agent Petrova?”_

_“No, Agent Ruskin. I initiated it.”_

He turned to her, his eyes pleading. “Don’t do this.”

“ _She is in no serious danger, Zima. Though I would wonder what would cause you to put yourself on the line if she were.”_

“ _Because I_ care _about her.”_ Zima met Trainer’s eyes, trying to convey as blatantly as he could that he didn’t ‘care’ about  _her_  anymore…at least as far as he knew.

“ _…ah. Caring is a dangerous thing in this line of business.”_ Trainer’s voice and face did not change, but there was a faint…something – almost like a scent of…sadness? Maybe even jealousy? – in the air.

He squared his shoulders and stood straighter. “ _It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”_

Trainer shrugged one shoulder. “ _As you wish. It is your choice to make. But now it is time to continue training.”_

Zima nodded shortly, then turned back to Petrova as Trainer started to leave.

“ _You okay?”_

She nodded. “ _I’m fine. But you didn’t have to do that.”_

His voice softened. “ _I don’t want you getting hurt.”_

Trainer’s voice rang back from further down the hallway. “ _You two lovebirds coming or not?”_

He looked down the hall, then back at Petrova, offering his arm. Why did that feel like the right thing to do? But she didn’t take it, though she did smile a little before she took off after Trainer.

When they reached a training room, Trainer leaned on the wall to watch them run through their ballet exercises on her order.

“ _Well done. Let me see you spar each other.”_

Petrova went a little harder than normal, and Zima matched, knowing somehow that if they went light on each other it could be seen as them giving each other special treatment because they liked each other.

Eventually Petrova ended up in a headlock, unable to get out until she yielded and he let her go.

Trainer was silent for a moment before she spoke. “ _…Run through everything again, and then you are dismissed for today.”_

Zima frowned. “ _That’s it?”_

_“Yes.”_

He watched her…something in her body language was different.

Trainer gave him a look.  _“Get to it or I’ll change my mind.”_

They got to it.

A few hours later, they finished, and Trainer left, dismissing them. Zima looked at Petrova. Petrova looked back.

“You okay?”

“ _Yes.”_

“ _Wanna go back to the room?”_

_“Sure.”_

He smiled and held the door for her, and she thanked him as they headed into the hallway and back to his room.

“ _Is your trainer back yet?”_

_“Not yet…I think she’s supposed to come back…tomorrow.”_

Zima looked around, lowering his voice a little. “ _We can go to your room then…if you want.”_

 _“My room?”_  She seemed confused for a moment before a light came on behind her eyes. “ _It’s not that much different from yours except for the lack of your trainer.”_

He nodded. “ _We can go back to mine and say that we’re taking your things back to yours except for the clothes you need tonight and in the morning.”_

_“Alright.”_

They shared a smile before going in; he held the door for her again when they left, some of Petrova’s few belongings in each of their hands.

The room that Petrova shared with her trainer was indeed extremely similar to the one Zima shared with his and Agent Romanova…though Petrova’s trainer didn’t seem nearly so spartan, having a few decorations on her dresser.

He looked around. “ _It’s nice.”_

She smiled. “ _Thanks. Most agents, from what I know, have little personal touches...I think only Agents Ruskin and Romanova don't...maybe Agent Shoskatov, but I haven't heard much gossip about him that doesn't relate to his relationship with Agents Romanova, Ruskin, and Orlov.”_

Zima nodded a little, filing that information away in a corner of his mind as he set Petrova’s stuff down. When he looked up again, her back was to him, and on an odd instinct, he reached out and felt her hair. She jumped.

He stopped. “ _Sorry.”_

_“It’s…alright, I guess. I don’t really like it when people touch my hair.”_

“ _Oh. How come?”_

She shrugged. “ _I just don’t.”_

“ _Oh.”_  He put his hand down.

She smiled a little, and sat on her bed.

Zima thought for a bit, then asked, “ _Who is Agent Ruskin?”_

Petrova stared at him. “ _Agent Ruskin is your trainer.”_

Confusion rippled through him. What? “ _I’ve only known her as Trainer…”_

_“Her name is Liron Irina Ruskin…or at least that’s what it says on her file. Funny thing is, though…Liron Ruskin isn’t a Russian name. At least not one I’ve ever heard of before her.”_

“ _Why wouldn’t she tell me?”_

_“What, her name? Likely she didn’t think it relevant.”_

He nodded a little. That made sense. “ _So…you said that most agents have personal things. Why don’t they?”_

Petrova leaned her elbows on her knees, a lock of hair falling from behind her ear. She tucked it back as she spoke. “ _Well, the most common theory is that because Romanova's a Black Widow and Ruskin's....kinda one, they're not allowed to as part of something to keep them the perfect assassins or something. But Ruskin's Sir's pet, so that doesn't really make sense. The other common one is that they just haven't gotten any yet. They've only been out of training for four and a half years now, from what I heard, and I wouldn't put it past demon Madame to deny all of the Black Widow trainees any form of personal anything.”_

“ _Oh.”_

She nodded.

_“…How long have you been here?”_

_“Two years…no, three.”_

He chewed his lip a little absently. “ _So…you’d know things about Trai-Liron then?”_

Petrova nodded again. “ _I hear all the gossip. My trainer is especially good at catching things.”_

* * *

 

Liron knocked on Sir’s door.

“ _Enter.”_

The white-haired man looked up as she closed the door behind, and she spoke before he even opened his mouth.

“ _Zima kissed Petrova.”_

He stared at her for a moment before leaning back in his chair. “ _I see…”_

_“It makes me…angry, I think? And I don’t know why.”_

Sir placed his hands together, index fingers resting against his lips. “ _Do you have feelings for him?”_

Liron frowned slightly, trying to think. “ _I…do not know how to tell.”_

_“Well, you’re angry, but why come to me? Why not punish your trainee yourself? What other feelings do you feel about this.”_

She approached the desk, sitting gracefully but with a little more flop than normal in the chair opposite him. “ _I do not punish him because he has done nothing wrong according to the rules of the Red Room. And…something about him calls to me. I come to you because aside from Natalia and perhaps Alexi and Nikolas, you are the only person that I trust.”_

He nodded a little, a look alike to satisfaction in his eyes. “ _If you continued having feelings, come to me about them.”_

 _“Yes Sir.”_ Liron hesitated a moment before she asked, “ _Must I go through Refreshment?”_

Sir shook his head. “ _No. I want to know how your feelings are building.”_

She nodded, understanding if not completely. “ _Yes Sir. I thought…I thought bringing Petrova in would help somewhat, but I seem to be…”_ She gestured vaguely, forgetting the word suddenly.

“ _Help in what way?”_

_“Distracting him, giving me space to breathe, something like that?”_

He leaned forward again. “ _And why did you want to do that?”_

_“I don’t want the confusion of these feelings; I don't know how to react to them...I am not trained for this sort of situation. Natalia at least has known for a while that she and Alexi would be wed for loyalty's sake, which gave her foreknowledge in case feelings formed, which as I am sure nearly everyone knows they have.”_

Sir nodded again.  _“I say act on how you feel and what you want. If you need help, ask Natalia. Come to me whenever something happens. I_ am _taking notes of your behaviour. It is not against your record unless you defy me. But I know you won’t.”_  A small smile curled the corner of his mouth.

Something warm, maybe pride, filled Liron’s chest, and she allowed herself a small smile back. “ _Thank you for your trust, Sir. …What of Petrova? I have no wish to make Zima despise me because I got in between the two of them.”_

“ _Keep her on. She will eventually be…dealt with.”_

_“Yes Sir.”_

“ _You may go.”_

Liron stood and left, closing the door behind her. Once she got out into the hallway, she turned invisible for just a moment so she could lean on the wall and put her head in her hands and close her eyes without anyone seeing her. Having feelings…having feelings like this anyways…was exhausting. Why couldn’t she just have feelings for…Natalia, or Nikolas, someone she actually  _knew_  and wasn’t her trainee?

After a few moments, she straightened, becoming visible again. There was no point in brooding about it. Act on her feelings, Sir said…could she? She didn’t know how…then again, he’d also said to ask Natalia. Natalia would probably know.

And apparently she’d inadvertently summoned her, because there was the woman herself.

“ _Hey, what’s wrong?”_

_“Sir told me to act on my feelings toward Zima.”_

Red brows furrowed. “ _What does that mean? And why?”_

_“I don’t really know.”_

“ _Are you on a sort of mission or something?”_

Liron shook her head. “ _Nothing other than training Zima.”_

Natalia stared at her. “ _Do you…like him?”_

She shrugged one shoulder.  _“Sir seems to think so. I do not know how to tell, really. I do know that something about him calls me.”_

“ _You mean your wolf?”_

_“More than likely.”_

Her friend nodded a little. “ _If that’s what has to be done…”_

Liron ran a hand over her face, fingertips trailing into her hair for a moment. “ _I don’t know what to do_.”

“ _How did this even come about?”_

She told her everything that had happened and was said in her visit to Sir. Natalia was frowning when she finished, then sighed silently.

“ _You have to follow Sir’s orders.”_

Liron chewed her lip. “ _I know. But how?”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I don’t know how to follow Sir’s orders in this.”_

“ _Do you want help?”_

_“Please.”_

“ _Let’s talk in the room.”_

Right…there were cameras in the hall. Liron nodded and followed Natalia to their room, where they sat on her bed. Zima and Petrova were not there.

“ _So…what don’t you understand?”_

_“What are my feelings, how do I know that that's what they are, how am I supposed to act on them, and what about Petrova? Sir said she'd be taken care of, but she has the potential to be a very good agent, and killing her would be a waste of resources.”_

_“So then what is it that you_ feel _, aside from emotions, when you are around him?”_

Liron frowned at her a little until the meaning of her particular wording registered. “ _Um…warmth.”_

Natalia nodded slightly. “ _Anything else?”_

She thought for a moment, trying the summon up the sensations in the pit of her gut and floating through her mind when she was around him…and found both words for them and a similarity.

“ _Protectiveness. Many of the ones I have for you, but there’s a…different layer to them, almost?”_

Natalia nodded again. “ _The combination of all of that is what I learned to feel for Alexi.”_

Liron listened carefully as Natalia tried to explain even though she knew only very little more than Liron herself, using at times examples of things in missions.

Suddenly the door opened, and Natalia stopped talking. Liron looked up to see Zima.

“ _Petrova’s putting her stuff back in her room.”_

She inclined her head. “ _Very well. She is welcome to move back there completely if she wishes so long as she meets us for training at the usual time, since her trainer is returning tomorrow.”_

He nodded.

“ _What is it you feel for her, Zima?”_

Dark brows furrowed a little; clearly he didn’t really understand the question. “ _I like her.”_

_“More specifically.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“What does she make you feel?”_

He thought for a few moments, speaking hesitantly. “ _I dunno…like I’m worth something, I guess.”_

 _“Ah…and you do not feel like you are worth anything to anyone other than her?”_ Liron’s voice was very purposely not snippy; she knew the feeling of being worthless…well, worthless other than as a-…no. She was worth more than just as a weapon to Sir. She knew this.

Zima shrugged. “ _Kind of. I mostly just feel like a necessity.”_

Ah…Liron nodded a little. She and Natalia both…Madame was very clear on their positions in the Red Room, and even if she was more…intense about Liron’s, she wasn’t the only one. And of course, Madame would know…she was in this position when she was younger. Or at least, she was a Widow.

“ _I understand.”_

There was an odd look in Zima’s eyes, and his scent was tinted faintly with something alike to guilt…why was he guilty? He had nothing to be guilty for that Liron could think of. Her feelings…what of them they were…were her problem, not his. It wasn’t his fault.

Natalia stood. “ _I am going to go spend the night with Alexi. Nikolas may come and stay here tonight, but he may not.”_

She gripped Liron’s shoulder, and they shared a silence glance before the redhead grabbed a change of clothes and left.


	9. Chapter 9

Several months after Petrova’s trainer returned, the young woman was assigned her first practice mission. It was just an infiltrate and gather intel mission, from what she told Zima during one of the few times when they could both slip away for a quiet moment together.

He was a little depressed when she left, but knew it was required. He was also confused as to why she went on a training mission before he did when he’d been there longer. So, logically, he asked Trainer.

She gave him an odd look. “ _Junior Agent Petrova was here for two years when you met her. You’ve only been here two years total. Also, she is getting a different set of training than you are.”_

“ _Shouldn’t I still have some kind of practice, though?”_

_“Not in missions yet.”_

He furrowed his brows a little, before giving up. Trainer watched him.

“ _So what am I doing now?”_

_“Continue to practice what you have learned, unless you wish to practice your aim or seduction, or to spar.”_

He shifted a little. “ _Could we do something new?”_

Trainer’s brow rose. “ _As in? Languages you know, tactics and the like we were just working on.”_

_“I mean something new. Like…sparring, or something we don’t do much of.”_

There was a silent ‘ah’ in her expression. “ _Anyone in particular you want to spar with?”_

“ _Not really.”_

She nodded. “ _Attack then. You won’t always have time to get into a fighting stance.”_

Zima blinked. “ _I’m sparring with you?”_

* * *

 

“ _Yes.”_

Her trainee nodded a little, and then he charged at her with a strike that would have been well aimed if she hadn’t dodged at the last minute. He ran into the wall, and jolted a little when she kicked the back of his knee, though not hard enough to buckle it. She wanted to draw this out.

Liron continued mostly blocking and dodging, taking quick shots every once in a while that didn’t do much damage to him.

They sparred for a while, and then she let him take her down, landing on her back. Zima scrambled over her, her metal hand managing to grab her wrists and pull them over her head, his flesh arm pressing into her throat. Liron choked on reflex, squirming. But she didn’t fight nearly as hard as she could to make him let her up.

Zima’s knee wedged between her legs, and he pushed her down more with his hips. A little sound was ‘forced’ from her lips, and she kicked and kneed at his back, choking as his arm pressed harder against her throat.

She hoped he wasn’t trying to crush her trachea…the edges of her sight were starting to go fuzzy…

“ _Do you yield?”_

Liron’s voice was quiet for lack of air. “ _What would you do if I did not? Would you kill me?”_

…perhaps if he did it would prevent her from bringing further death to others, though she feared what would come after that moment.

Zima let up on the pressure a bit, confusion flashing over his face. “ _It’s training.”_

Liron wheezed a little. “ _You’re about to crush my windpipe, Zima.”_

“ _Sorry.”_

She gasped a little on instinct when a lot of the pressure disappeared, and cleared her throat. “ _Don’t be. You’re training for killing anyways.”_

And…his other hand had loosened its grip on her wrists… She turned her hands and yanked them free, then rolled them over so she was on top, putting a hand on his throat so her thumb was on one side and her fingers were the other, his windpipe nestling neatly in the web of her hand.

“ _This is a safer way to choke someone in training or if you do not necessarily want to kill them. As you know, it is called a blood choke.”_

Zima fought to get her off him, but she held him down for a little longer before releasing his neck, though she stayed sitting on him. He coughed a little before groaning softly.

Liron watched him, something deep in the pit of her belly spreading warmth to the rest of her at…some vague thought she couldn’t identify.

They stared at each other for a while, silent. Zima cleared his throat.

“ _Why didn’t you yield?”_

_“I wanted to see what you would do.”_

_“Why?”_

Liron sat back a little, incidentally putting a little more pressure on his hips. “ _Just a test.”_

Zima drew in a sharp breath, and Liron tilted her head. He groaned again.

 _“What’s wrong?”_  She knew exactly where she was sitting, and she knew why that would make him groan, but it seemed awfully random…especially since she wasn’t moving.

“ _Like you don’t know_.”

She raised a brow. His hips snapped up a little to emphasise his point, and she held back a shudder.

 _“Ah. A little…distracted.”_  She let her voice be a little flirty,  _almost_  playful. Why was this fun?

* * *

 

Zima blinked. Did Trainer just flirt at him? …there was a faint smile in her eyes. He raised a brow. A tiny smirk teased her lips.

“ _You’ve never smiled before?”_

“ _Haven’t I?”_

He shook his head.

Trainer raised a brow and leaned forward a bit. “ _That’s strange...I seem to remember your scent flaring with pride, or something similar, when I smiled at you in training because you'd done something well.”_

What? OH…he’d forgotten that. “ _I forgot…”_ Hang on, what? “ _My scent?”_

She nodded. “ _Yes.”_

_“What…What is my scent?”_

_“Leather, dark chocolate, and plums.”_  Her tongue darted out to lick her lip, and in any other situation where they were like this, that would have distracted him to the sky and back, but…

“ _How can you smell it?”_

 _“It is a gift of mine. Everyone has a scent. Some are...more appealing than others.”_  And there was that smirk again.

Huh…interesting. “ _Can everyone smell it?”_

She shook her head. Oh…but…

“ _Oh, so you’re wearing perfume then?”_ He didn’t think so, he’d never seen her put any on, but…

Trainer blinked. “ _I don’t wear perfume.”_

Okay, so then why… “ _Then how do you always smell like roses?”_

Now she was outright staring at him. “ _What?”_

He didn’t  answer, not really having an answer, and stared back, more confused that he could remember  being for some time.

“ _Sit up.”_

Zima obeyed without question, and she shifted back so he had room to. They were so close…

“ _Are you sure I smell like roses?”_

He nodded. There was no way he could not be sure, not with how close they were. “ _That and two other smells I don’t know what to call.”_

She bit her lip. Was something wrong? He was so confused.

“ _Can I smell scents too then?”_

 _“It seems so.”_ Those pretty eyes filled with an emotion he’d never seen before…honestly she almost looked half-dazed…and she started to nose at him at little. “ _Which brings me to wonder, because…”_  Her eyes locked on his. “ _As far as anyone knows, I am the only one who can.”_

Zima shivered. This was so strange…she’d turned him away when he’d approached her, but now she was flirting and teasing and nuzzling him. He felt lost. “ _S-so?”_

Trainer sat up again, and her hand brushed ever-so-gently against the side of his head. “ _So there may be something even more special about you than I had thought.”_

His mouth went dry, and he swallowed hard. “ _Why are you acting like this? I thought you didn’t like me?”_

“ _I said it was dangerous for you to like me and that I don’t know_ how _to like people.”_

“ _But you like me now…?”_  It seemed today was the day for the most confusion he had ever experienced.

“ _Something about you calls to me.”_

“ _Like?”_

 _“I’m not certain.”_ Her nose brushed his lightly.

Suddenly the door opened, and Trainer jumped a little.

The three agents in the doorway backpedalled quickly. “ _Oh, we're so sorry! We didn't know anyone was in here...”_

Trainer stood smoothly, her usual mask forming. “ _No harm done. We are done anyways._ ” She looked at him. “ _Zima, let’s go.”_

Zima followed her dutifully to the room, and sat on his bed when she closed the door.

“ _Am I the only one who’s scent you can smell?”_ She sat down across from him.

Uh… “ _Dunno. I never noticed it before.”_

She crossed her legs. “ _Think about it. It will be a useful thing to add to your training.”_

Zima thought hard, trying to remember. “ _Um…I remember_ something _about Agent Romanova’s…something warm and spicy?”_

Trainer nodded a little. “ _Cinnamon, nail polish, and static is Natalia.”_

Oh, okay. He listened when she listed a few more scents, connecting them with names of agents, and when he thought back to when he had last seen those agents – of the ones he had seen – he could remember smells like she was talking about…if he knew what the smell-name actually  _smelled like_ …hanging around the person like an extremely faint perfume.

“ _I hadn’t noticed those, but now that I know I’ll keep an eye out for them.”_

Trainer smiled a bit, and a familiar warmth in the core of his chest flared up a little. “ _Good. Identifying people and emotions by scent can help greatly in having control of a situation.”_

He tilted his head. “ _How?”_

 _“Knowing how to identity people by scent is the reason why it's_ extremely _hard for anyone to sneak up on me. Even if I can't hear them, nine times out of ten I can smell them.”_

 _“Oh, okay.”_ Well that explained that.

A few long moments of silence passed, before Zima couldn’t hold back an important question, switching to English.

“Why did you change your feelings toward me?”

Trainer looked back at him, suddenly seeming hesitant. “ _…Sir told me to act on them.”_

His brows furrowed. “…What did you tell him?”

“ _Everything.”_

* * *

 

Zima’s scent flared up sharp with fear, the emotion mirrored in his eyes.

Liron leaned back against her headboard. “ _Madame will not be told, to my knowledge. And Sir seems to think there is an opportunity for...something.”_

Irritation joined the fear. “You told me you wouldn’t tell.”

“ _I told you I wouldn't tell Madame. I have orders to tell Sir about this situation almost since I met you.”_

“Why?”

“ _Because he gave them to me.”_

Zima stood, the irritation taking over, with a hint of anger by its side. “Why?! What did you say?!”

Liron stood as well, keeping herself impassive. “ _I told him everything.”_

He started to pace, gripping his hair. “Was it really necessary?!”

“ _Yes…why wouldn’t it be?”_ Liron frowned. “ _I follow my orders. And I trust Sir.”_

He spun to face her. “Why did Sir even ask you?”

Why was she revealing all of this to him? “ _I approached him.”_

“Why?”

Her frown deepened. “ _Why does this matter so much?”_

“Because I  _have_ to know!” He advanced a little, but if he was trying to intimidate her, it wasn’t working.

Liron crossed her arms, switching to English as well, even if it didn’t flow as well with her thoughts. “I had something I was not trained to deal with, and I wanted to know what to do about it. That is all.”

“And what was that?”

“I already told you, Zima.”

“Tell me again.”

She squared her shoulders. She shouldn’t be telling him all of this. She was the Ice Queen, trained to be emotionless unless the emotion was useful. This was not useful…even if the warmth was nice. Although…Sir seemed to think there was use in it. What kind of use, she could only guess, and she didn’t really want to. She shouldn’t need to.

Zima advanced again. “I have a right to know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

….Fine. She supposed there wasn’t harm in telling him since she’d  _already told him_. “Something about you calls to me.” And she had a guess now as to what that something was, considering he could smell identity scents.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. And I think I know what it is now.”

“What is it?”

“You’re like me.”

That was the only explanation she could think of for him being able to smell identity scents, not to mention that tang in  _his_  scent that she’d only ever smelled in her own. And that…spark, almost, in his mind.

“How am I like you?”

Liron tapped the side of her nose. “You just learned about it.”

Zima blinked.

She moved toward the door. “And now that I know that reason, I need to obey my orders and report to Sir.”

He sighed softly. “Is that the only reason you were flirting with me?”

Liron paused. “…Is what the only reason?”

“Because of  _Sir.”_

“No.” She left the room, teleporting to just outside of Sir’s office door.

She knocked and entered when bid, closing the door behind her.

“ _Zima can smell scents like I can.”_

Sir stopped what he was doing and looked up, surprise blatant on his face and in his scent. “ _Is that so?”_

Liron nodded. “ _And I have reason to believe that there are...other similarities.”_

“ _Such as?”_

_“More wolf qualities than just the scents...he growls sometimes, and it's not a human growl, though I didn't realise it wasn't until today. And there is a…tang in his scent that I have only ever encountered in my own.”_

Sir was silent for a long time, and Liron sat down in the chair across from him to wait.

“… _What kind of ‘tang’?”_

Liron bit her lip slightly. “ _It’s…hard to explain. There isn’t really a physical scent that I can compare it to.”_

He nodded. “ _Keep it up.”_

_“Yes Sir.”_

Sir dismissed her, and she returned to the room. Zima was still sitting on his bed, and looked up when she closed the door.

“What did he say?”

* * *

 

Trainer imitated Sir’s voice almost perfectly. “ _Keep it up.”_

Zima’s brows furrowed…well that was weird. He watched as Trainer pulled a box out from under her bed and remove a book. Briefly, he caught a glimpse of what looked like a sword and a set of armour before the lid closed. What the-?

Trainer sat on her bed, drawing her knees up to her chest and opening the book…there was a  _very_  faded cross on the front. After a moment though, she blinked – seeming surprised – and got up to put it back in the box.

“You have a bible?”

“ _Huh?”_ She looked up. “ _Oh, this?”_ The book lifted in the air on a faint tendril of blue light before landing back in her hand. “ _…how do you know what it’s called?”_

“I…I…don’t know…” Zima’s face scrunched in thought and confusion. “Some things I can remember…but not much. Other than that…” He shook his head.

Trainer nodded a little. “ _I am…actually pleased that you remember anything at all.”_

“Why?”

She switched to English. “Because that confirms that Zola’s methods are not nearly as effective as mine.”

Zima looked at her. “Yours?”

Trainer nodded again. “I have had to wipe a few memories in my past. I…” She paused and got an odd look on her face, checking to see if the door was closed before continuing to do it. “I do not enjoy doing it at all.”

He shifted. The thought of her doing that…made him uneasy in more ways than one…but why? “Then why do you do it?”

“Because I am ordered to, or…for the safety of the one I am doing it to.”

“Why? I mean, what good is it?”

Something flashed in her pretty eyes. “Would you  _want_  a child who’s father was assassinated to remember that loss? Would you  _want_  his wife to be forced to mourn his death?” She should her head. “Better they forget and avoid being targets themselves.”

Oh…Zima nodded sadly, understanding somehow.

Trainer sighed a bit, then shook her head as if to clear it and went back to looking for whatever she was looking for. After a while she sighed again and came back up, leaning her elbows on her bed for a moment.

Suddenly Zima remembered something Petrova had said a while ago… “How come you and Agent Romanova don’t have any personal things?”

She looked at him again. “ _Say again?”_

“How come you and Agent Romanova don’t have any personal things?”

“ _We have personal things…not very many, but we have them…”_  Her scent fluttered with what Zima guess to be confusion, judging by her tone and expression.

“Where?” He glanced under her bed.

“ _In the box I got my bible from.”_

“Oh, okay.”

“… _I’m assuming you want to see?”_

He shrugged. Not really; he didn’t care all that much, he’d just been curious.

“ _Very well. You will find out eventually anyways.”_  She sat on her bed again.

Zima waited. “…change your mind?”

_“Hm?”_

_“_ About showing me?”

Trainer shook her head, and Zima nodded a little.

* * *

 

Three weeks passed. Petrova returned from her mission, and she and Zima started spending time together again…when Liron gave him time off. When she didn’t, she herself continued flirting with him on and off, testing the waters a little and trying to hold to her training while still obeying Sir’s orders to act on her feelings.

Honestly, Zima seemed happy around Petrova, and flirted back and forth with her in a way he seemed much too cautious to with Liron.

There were times she thought about just leaving them be…she could close off her emotions if she wanted…but why did she care? She wasn’t  _supposed_  to care about other people…but of course Natalia, Alexi, and Nikolas, and even Sir proved that to be impossible.

One day, Liron had let Zima go off and be with Petrova, feeling a little overwhelmed, when Natalia walked in – probably fresh from working out with Alexi, judging by his scent hanging around her.

“ _Hi. How was training?”_

Her partner blinked, then the lightbulb clicked on. “ _You smell him on me, don’t you?”_ She smiled a little and sat beside her. “ _It went well. You okay?”_

Liron shook her head. “ _Overwhelmed.”_

“ _What’s wrong?”_

Natalia draped an arm around Liron’s shoulders, and she leaned into it.

“ _Sir’s orders…Zima seems happy with Petrova...I still don't know how to deal with my own feelings to be able to follow Sir's orders even if I ignore Zima and Petrova...It's too much.”_

Natalia’s scent flared with concern, and she frowned. “ _Do you like Zima?”_

_“He…I think he has a wolf, Natalia. I should have told you as soon as I found out, but...he can smell scents, and he growls, and...”_

Surprise and a faint bit of disbelief joined the concern, but the latter stayed the strongest. “ _Liron, do you like Zima.”_

 _“I…I think so.”_ There was very little doubt in it now. He was like her…even if only a little.

“ _Then go for it. It'll only make you obey Sir's orders easier if you do get involved with him. That's basically what Sir wants right? He's getting you two together to see how you react.”_

Liron shook her head. “ _Zima does not want me anymore. I do not want to force him.”_

“ _Then show him you want him. And I mean, really want him.”_

She nodded a little. It would take a bit, but if Natalia and Alexi could grow to…love – that seemed to be the right word by what she’d observed – each other, Liron could figure out how to  _properly_  show Zima she wanted him without resorting to outright seduction.

She leaned closer to Natalia. “ _Hold me for a little?”_

Natalia’s smile was soft, and she opened her arms, shifting back on the bed a little so Liron could climb onto her lap. Their arms wrapped securely around each other, and Liron buried her face in Natalia’s neck, taking comfort in her scent and letting it calm her.

Suddenly the door opened, and Zima’s scent floated through the doorway as his footsteps stopped short.

* * *

 

Zima stopped walking…Trainer and Agent Romanova were  _cuddling_ …like that. A certain suspicion rose back up in his mind. Also, roses and cinnamon made for an interesting combination.

Trainer untucked her face from Agent Romanova’s neck and looked at him. “ _How was Petrova?”_

“ _Uh…she’s fine.”_

 _“Good.”_ She untangled herself from Agent Romanova and stood, helping the other woman to her feet, when then disappeared into the bathroom as Trainer spoke. “ _Unless you have something you want to work on, you are welcome to take the next…three hours or so off as long as you return here before those three hours are up.”_

He frowned a little. “ _…okay.”_

Zima left, closing the door behind him again. He started to go back to Petrova, but what he’d just seen drove him to find Alexi instead. He needed to tell him.

Alexi was in the gun range, cleaning a pistol. Judging by the powder burns on his fingers, he’d just finished shooting. After a moment, he looked up.

“ _Any particular reason for watching me?”_

_“I need to talk to you about something.”_

“ _Okay?”_

_“It can wait until you’re done.”_

The redhead finished cleaning the gun and put it away. “ _What is it?”_

_“It’s about Trainer and Agent Romanova.”_

Alexi gave him a curious look. “ _What about them?”_

_“Well…lately they've been... really close. I... i think they might be together. And i thought i should tell you.”_

He crossed his arms over his chest. “ _Together as in what? You think Natalia is cheating on me with Liron?”_

Zima nodded. “ _Yes.”_

Alexi looked at him for a long moment, then started laughing. People turned to look, then proceeded to ignore them. Zima’s brows furrowed. What was so funny?

The other man calmed quickly. “ _If anyone was cheating in this situation, Natalia would be cheating on Liron with me. But they're not together like that, so it doesn't matter either way.”_

_“But…I saw them.”_

_“Doing what?”_

_“Being close, snuggling, hugging…”_

Alexi nodded a little. “ _Natalia is the only person that Liron will do that with at all. I don't exactly know what their relationship is, but it's not the kind where they could be considered cheating.”_

 _“Really?”_ That was…confusing. “ _But one would be taking a shower and the other would sometimes just go in there…”_

Alexi snorted. “ _That’s just normal for the Red Room. Partners, especially ones who've trained together as long as they have, do that all the time.”_

“ _Oh…_ ” Okay then…well he was worried about nothing, wasn’t he?

Alexi nodded.

“ _Sorry…I thought she was cheating.”_

 _“No harm done.”_ He reached over and clapped Zima on the shoulder.

Zima smiled a little, and Alexi smiled back.

“ _I should head back.”_

_“You sure you don’t want to shoot with me?”_

Zima thought for a moment…he didn’t really want to go back the room yet, and Petrova probably had to train… “ _I can if you want me to.”_

_“How much time do you have off?”_

“ _Two and a half hours now.”_

Alexi nodded. “ _If you want to shoot with me, you’re welcome to.”_

Zima thought for another moment, then went and grabbed a gun, joined Alexi – who had gotten a different one than the one he’d just put away – at the booths.

When Zima and Alexi were done at the range, Agent Romanova showed up, so Zima thought it would be fine to go ahead and go back to the room.

Trainer was sitting on her bed reading, and he watched her as he sat on his bed. After a while she looked up.

“ _What?”_

 _“Nothing.”_ He looked away.

“ _…okay.”_

After a few long, tense-on-Zima’s-part moments, he looked back at her, hesitant. She looked up again.

“Do you genuinely like me?”


	10. Chapter 10

 

Trainer hesitated at Zima’s question, then nodded a little. “ _I do, as much as I know I can.”_

His eyes widened a little, and his heart seemed to stop. If she was telling the truth…no, there was no if. Somehow he  _knew_. He could smell it.

Zima looked down, collecting his thoughts, then back at Trainer. “Why didn’t you tell me when I told you I liked you?”

She switched to English, her words a little slower, but the sincerity somehow enhanced by the fact that she took the trouble to speak in his language instead of her own. “Because like I said, it is dangerous, and according to my training, I am not supposed to.”

“Then why are you telling me now?”

“Because…Sir basically gave me permission to by ordering me to act on my feelings.”

He didn’t want to reply to that. They’d already been over what Sir had told her to do. “So…what now?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. I’m not trained for this.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “You said you’re ordered to act on you feelings…”

“I know that.”

“So…why don’t you just do what you feel like doing?”

Trainer sighed and ran a hand through her hair, suddenly looking so very human, and…oddly as young as she actually was if the birthdate from her file was correct. “I do not like forcing non-targets or non-enemies to do anything.”

Zima shook his head. “You wouldn’t be forcing me to do anything…”

He studied her, a familiar almost-warmth budding up as he  _really_  looked at her like he hadn’t since…since she’d turned him down. She was so beautiful…

She also looked sceptical. “What about Petrova?”

Pet-…oh. He’d forgotten about her. He looked down. “I don’t know.”

“Find out.”

He lifted his head again. “Find out what?”

She picked up her book…he hadn’t even noticed her putting it down. “Find out what about Petrova. I may not be trained how to like someone or have a...relationship, but I know enough to know that it is not considered...appropriate...for me to do as I wish while she is still in the equation.”

“Oh…” Zima thought deeply, hoping to be able to decide as quickly as possible, but…it was hard. He liked Petrova, he really did, but…he liked Trainer first, and he still liked her. If he was honest with himself, liking Petrova was…almost to distract himself from liking Trainer…not that it worked as well as he’d hoped at the time.

Trainer turned away from him and back to her book.

He laid down, hoping that would somehow help his decision-making.

A long several minutes passed, the silence punctured only by the pagers of Trainer’s book turning.

Eventually, instead of making a decision, Zima started to fall asleep.

* * *

 

Liron heard her trainee’s breathing even out a little more than normal, and she glanced over. He looked…he looked so peaceful half-asleep. She did not look forward to the day when his face would gain the hardness of her own. The hardness it’d had from his time in the war had faded with his memories, and from what she was seeing, eventually that would return as well. If only…if only she could keep him soft for a time longer than he would be…

His eyes open to slits for just a moment, before slipping fully closed. A lock of hair fell into his face, and Liron couldn’t resist letting a little tendril of magic lifted it up and tuck it gently behind his ear. He shifted a little, hand twitching. She smiled softly, then conjured up a soft blanket over him and went back to her book.

After a while, Liron got up and went to put the book back in the small library hidden in a corner of the base. When she returned, Zima was curled up on his side, sweating and trembling.

Liron frowned deeply and knelt by his side, placing a hand on his head, dipping into his mind to see what was wrong.

Memories. His past was trying to slip through the ruined connection between his mind-core and his long-term memory centre, but were both simply unable to because of the broken connection…and they were blocked by little spits of what looked like electricity.

Suddenly something in his mind-core  _shifted_ , and growling reached her mental ears as Zima’s body went still. Liron ‘turned around’, only for a giant snow-white wolf, proportionally the same size as her own, to meet her mind’s eye.

She took a mental step back, not entirely sure what to do. The wolf’s silver eyes tracked her closely, it’s fangs bared. No, not just ‘the wolf’. This was Zima’s wolf. This was Zima. She blinked, and it was gone, an echoing howl bouncing off of the walls of Zima’s mind.

Liron retreated, and frowned contemplatively at her trainee’s sleeping body. He wasn’t sweating anymore, and he looked peaceful again…his hair was in his face again.

She tucked the few locks back behind his ear, and on instinct kissed the side of his head, an action rewarded by an unconscious smile.

A few moments passed with Liron just sitting there watching Zima sleep before she took a risk and slipped back into his mind. It was easier this time…and this time the wolf was waiting.

It, no, he stood there silently as she knelt down slowly, tilting back her head to bare her neck in a show of trust…or at least, lack of threat. Zima’s wolf stood and approached her, body language threatening and possessive of the mental landscape they were in.

Liron did not move, but she wasn’t afraid. All she had was hope that the other wolf would accept her as either not a threat or maybe even as pack and apprehension that he wouldn’t.

He stopped within arm’s reach. She held still. He came a little closer, teeth no longer bared, and after a moment he sat, an expectant look in his eyes.

Liron slowly shifted into her wolf form, and Zima’s wolf stood and backed away, clearly startled.

She swallowed a little, then lowered herself into a submissive posture. She didn’t like this. It made her feel to vulnerable. But…if it was worth it…?

Zima’s wolf stopped growling and relaxed a little, tilting his head at her. She held very still, and after a moment her padded over and sniffed at her for some time before booping her nose with his.

Liron lifted her head a little, and then when Zima’s wolf did not react, very slowly sat up the rest of the way.

‘ _Hello.’_

Zima’s wolf tilted his head, speaking in Zima’s….well, his own voice. ‘ _Hello.’_

‘ _Do you know who I am to your human self?’_

_‘Yes. You’re Liron.’_

She blinked. ‘ _You know my name?’_

_‘Yes.’_

Okay. Petrova or someone must have told him, or he looked at her file. It wasn’t a big deal. But what was at least a bigger deal than him knowing her name… ‘ _Is what he said true?’_

Zima’s wolf straightened his head. ‘ _About?’_

_‘His feelings.’_

The other wolf nodded.  _‘Yes. Every word.’_

She didn’t really know how to react to that, so... ‘ _What of his feelings for Petrova?’_

‘ _That was your fault. After you told him it wasn’t possible, he did not want to like you anymore and turned to her.’_

_‘I…am aware of that. I brought her in partly for that purpose.’_

His head tilted, confusion rippling through Zima’s mindscape. ‘ _You did it on purpose?’_

She nodded a little.

‘ _Why?’_

Liron sighed softly, her tail swishing a little. ‘ _Because I couldn’t think of anything else to do.’_

Zima’s wolf sounded irritated. ‘ _You should have waited. He would have waited for you.’_

_‘There was no way I could have known that.’_

‘ _Well, now that he knows, he has to choose.’_

_‘I know. And I would not fault him for choosing her.’_

He seemed to smile a little. ‘ _I don’t think he will.’_

She made an expression similar to a raised brow. ‘ _She has not hurt him.’_

‘ _I know that.’_

Liron inclined her head, then shifted back to human form. ‘ _I’m going to go back to my own mind, unless you particularly need me to stay.’_

It honestly wasn’t all that comfortable in his mind right now…partly because of all the potential for it to be.

‘ _Not really.’_

Liron pulled out of Zima’s mind silently, and moved away from his bed for good measure. Her trainee shifted a little, and she watched him for just one more moment before slipping out the door and heading to Sir’s office.

The door opened just as she was about to knock, and she backed up to let him pass.

Sir looked at her. “ _Agent Ruskin…what can I do for you?”_

_“I simply wished to report on the status with Zima, but it can wait.”_

“ _No, no.”_ He stepped aside and held the door open. “ _Go in.”_

Liron obeyed, and Sir followed her in, closing the door after him.

“ _What is it?”_

_“There is no doubt that he has a wolf. I went into his mind and spoke with it.”_

“ _Interesting.”_ Sir sat at his desk.

Liron sat across from him. “ _And it seems that just outright telling him that I am attracted to him has caused…not quite a dilemma, but he is having conflict of his own.”_

_“And how is that?”_

_“I have given him the choice to decide between Petrova and myself. And he knows...or at least his wolf knows...for some reason they are separate...that I introduced Petrova to distract him from my rejection.”_

_“Did you?”_

_“I did.”_

He nodded and was silent for quite some time before speaking again. “ _Have you come forward about your feelings to Zima?”_

_“Yes.”_

“ _And?”_

 _“And I gave him his choice. His wolf said that he would have waited for me had I not introduced Petrova into the situation.”_ She crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair.

Sir placed his hands on the desk comfortably. “ _And how do you feel about that?”_

 _“I…”_ She thought a moment. _“While I have hope, if hope is what it is, that he will choose me, Petrova has not hurt him.”_

He nodded. “ _Petrova is young. If he chooses you, she will find someone else.”_

_“Sir, I am only a year older than Petrova. But I understand what you mean.”_

“ _Yes, I know.”_

Liron ran her hand over her hair absently. “ _And if he chooses her? What should I do then?”_

“ _We’ll wait to see.”_

_“Understood.”_

Sir watched her for a little longer. “ _Is that all?”_

_“Yes Sir.”_

They both stood. Sir strode around his desk and patted her shoulder gently, then held the door for her.

Liron smiled a little. “ _Thank you Sir.”_

She saluted, then headed back to her room, not bothering to knock before going inside. Zima was awake, still lying where he was. Their eyes locked for a moment, and she was the first to look away as she sat down.

After a moment, she felt his eyes on her again, and she looked over.

“What did you tell him?”

“That you have a wolf, and that I gave you a choice.”

Zima’s scent and face filled with confusion. “A wolf?”

“You didn’t know?” Liron frowned.

He sat up. “Know what?”

“About your wolf.”

“I don’t have a wolf.”

“Yes you do. I spoke with him. How else do you think you can smell scents like I do?”

Zima shrugged vaguely. “I dunno…just thought it was something we had in common.”

Liron couldn’t resist a soft amused huff. “Technically it is, just a bigger thing than you thought.”

“What do you mean by wolf?”

Ah…right. She shifted into wolf form, and he jumped, staring.

“This is my wolf. There’s more to it than just this shape and the scents, but that's hard to explain.”

Zima nodded a little, eyes wide. “How do I…?”

“Transform?” She sat, curling her tail around her legs. “Sink into your mind. You should find your wolf.”

“How do I do that?”

Liron tilted her head a little. “…right.”

She turned back into a human and rummaged through the box under her bed, coming up with a pencil and a well-used sketchbook. Where was the page…there.

“This is what is what the mind somewhat looks like to me, and to you if you have more than just the wolf in common with me.”

* * *

 

The picture that Trainer was showing him looked like a bunch of connected bubbles, with notes written in and around them. ‘Public’ thoughts…that was the biggest ring, with inner thoughts inside that…and then three lines on the edge of the inner thoughts ring connecting a whole bunch of other bubbles arranged kinda like a really strange tree-ish thing. Personality had its own line, with memories and skills on either side of it. Skills split off into mental and physical, and the mental bubble was linked to knowledge, which was linked to long-term memory. Memories itself was split into long-term, short-term, and…blocked memories?

“What does this mean?” He pointed to the bubble labelled ‘blocked memories’.

“Those are memories that have been locked away; usually particularly bad ones. Your memories have not been moved to there, the connection here...” She tapped the line between memories and inner thoughts. “...has been damaged.”

“Damaged?” Zima’s brows furrowed in confusion. How could something like that be damaged?

Trainer nodded. “Dr. Zola of HYDRA, the man that requested you be trained here, tried to wipe your memories completely by way of a modified electric chair of sorts. Nothing was removed, but the connection, as I said, is damaged.”

His brows furrowed deeper, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t ever remember that.”

“That was the point.”

Well that was awfully grim. “What memories were damaged?”

“The memories themselves are fine, from what I saw. You just can't get to them. That's why sometimes you remember things.”

“So…what memories don’t I remember?” Probably a stupid question, but…he wanted to know.

“All of them, except the ones you do. I know that sounds cryptic, but it’s true.”

* * *

 

Zima just looked like a lost puppy now. Liron bit her lip, not sure what to do. If he was her and she was Natalia, she would know to just hold him, but he wasn’t her and she wasn’t Natalia, so…well…maybe there was something.

“It would break protocol for me to return your memories at this point, and I have no wish for you to be harmed because of it...nor do I particularly like being punished. But...”

Something indeterminate flickered in Zima’s eyes and scent. “But?”

“But there may be something else I can do as a comfort at least for now. If you would like.”

There was no hesitation. “What is it?”

She did hesitate. “I…I can share one of my few good memories with you.”

Again, no hesitation, not even a moment for him to think about what that might be before he nodded. “Alright.”

Liron moved to sit beside her trainee, gently placing her hands on either side of his head. “Close your eyes.”

He obeyed, and she rested her forehead on his, sinking into the archives of her mind to find the memory she was looking for. She’d spend enough time alone with only her mind for company that she’d managed to organise all of her unblocked memories in a system not unlike a library. Most of them were simply by date and time, but there were a few…like the one that she was going to show him…that were special. Ah, there it was. Just after the only mission she’d had where both of them had been undercover…

**_A town stretched out before them, music playing from the room behind them. She and Natalia were hidden on the balcony with plates loaded up with food from the buffet, dressed in nice dresses, smiling and just enjoying each other's company in a rare extra few hours after a mission was completed. It was peaceful, and happy. She had Natalia – the only member of her pack – by her side, so there was no reason offhand that she could think of to be jealous of the couples and families in the party behind them and the town below. And they had more and better food than they could remember ever having all at once. And they were pretty without it being weaponised at the moment._ **

**_For a few seconds, she could indulge in a fantasy of a different life, and she could see her partner was taking advantage to do the same._ **

The memory faded, and Liron took her hands away from Zima’s head, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. His eyes fluttered open, and she was taken aback.

“ _You have pretty eyes.”_  …she had not meant to say that.

He blinked, clearly not knowing how to respond. “So do you.”

Oh, right, they were speaking English right now. “Thank you.”

He wasn’t looking away…something tingled. Liron licked her lower lip a little and watched his eyes as they flicked down to the movement. She knew that look; she’d seen him make it before…last time it got him into trouble. Would she let him go on? Yes, yes, she would. And Sir would not let Zima be punished if Zima did what she thou-… _wanted_  him to do. She did want it. She knew that without a doubt now.

He leaned in, hesitance in every line of his body…unsurety and a bit of fear thick in his scent and a silent question in his eyes.

Her voice was soft. “You have my permission.”

His lips brushed hers gently, fleeting, still afraid; but this time Liron kissed back, resting her hands on his arms to try and hold back the urge to pull him closer.

He was the first to pull away, his hands now on either side of her legs, and she let him, did not chase him.

“Zima?”

His eyes were bright. “Yeah?”

She licked her lower lip. “May I…may I return the favour you just gave me?” She had to ask out loud…she  _had_  to know she had his full consent.

A nod. “Yeah…”

She closed the gap between them, just as soft as before, still trying to fight against her instincts telling her  _more_. Her hands slid a little farther up his arms, a shiver running through him.

And then his arms wrapped tight around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and the majority of her resolve shattered like a sheet of ice under a hammer. Her hands moved from his arms to his hair as the kiss deepened, and she shifted slightly, ending up practically on his lap.

Sparks were flying in her mind, and her instincts, her wolf, sang. This was supposed to be happening. This was right. So very much against her training, but so right. She was a fool for trying to make it impossible.

She pressed closer, tugging his hair a little on accident, and a soft growl rumbled from his chest. Liron growled back, a little softer, and tugged again. His hands closed on her sides, and she was about to deepen the kiss further when a scent that wasn’t theirs came into range…approaching the door.

Liron pulled away, cupping the sides of his face. Zima looked at her, panting a little, his lips pinker than normal, and oh, she just wanted to kiss him again. But…

“Someone’s coming.”

Those pretty eyes widened a little, and he laid back down on his bed as if just waking up – of all the things to choose…? – as she stood.

The someone – Petrova, judging by the scent – knocked on the door just as Zima identified her in a whisper. Liron needed to remember to tell him well-done for that.

She opened the door. “ _Yes, Junior Agent Petrova?”_

_“I came to see if Zima is available.”_

Behind her, Zima sat up, and Liron made a split-second, selfish decision.

_“He has already used the free time I gave him today. It would be inappropriate to give him more when he still has training to do. Besides, the two of you need to be constantly aware that this will not be the only place you will ever been. There will be missions apart, and when his training is complete to Sir’s specifications, Zima will be returning to HYDRA.”_

Petrova’s eyes went a little wide, but she bowed her head. “ _Yes ma’am.”_

_“…but as it stands, I have a report to make to sir. You have until I get back.”_

Petrova’s head snapped back up, a smiling painting her lips.”  _Thank you.”_

_“You’re welcome.”_

Liron left.

* * *

 

Zima smiled back when Petrova came in.

“ _That was nice of her…I wonder what she has to report on.”_

He shrugged. She sat on his bed.

“ _How have you been since I saw you last?”_

_“Good. You?”_

_“Good. I heard through the grapevine that you saw Agents Ruskin and Romanova making out?”_

Wait what? Zima’s brows furrowed in confusion. “ _What? No. They weren’t making out at all. I just misunderstood their hugging for something more.”_

She nodded a little, seeming a bit disappointed. “ _Pity. That would have been_   _quite the scandal.”_

“ _Scandal?”_

_“The two top agents being like that? Yeah.”_

Zima frowned, getting a little defensive. “ _Well, they’re not.”_

She shrugged, then gave him a look when he went quiet. “ _What?”_

_“Nothing.”_

_“You sure?”_

He nodded.

“ _Okay.”_

Well…Zima hesitated, not sure whether to ask or not. “ _Petrova…”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“We…we need to talk…about us.”_

Petrova leaned a little closer. “ _My first name is Agata.”_

 _“What?”_ Where’d that come from?

“ _My first name is Agata.”_

Okay? “ _You never told me that.”_

_“You never asked.”_

…that seemed a little off somehow. He should tell Train-…Liron about this. “ _Okay. Well, I was thinking…”_ Uh…how did he make a cover for this… “ _How long have we known each other?”_

_“Two years or so. Why?”_

Zima sighed. “ _Think is…I…I don’t think it’s working out between us.”_

Petrova…Agata frowned. “ _What do you mean? We’re doing fine…or at least, I thought we are.”_

“ _I know…but…now with us being apart more…”_

She crossed her arms. “ _Did Agent Ruskin put you up to this? Is that why you’re doing this?”_

He was quick to shake his head. “ _No, no.”_  Well…not really.

“ _Then what is it? Agents Romanova and Shoskatov do just fine with the long amounts of time apart, so the all the other agents that are together in this organisation.”_

Okay then…well… “ _Fine…I…like someone else…”_  He was almost afraid to say it.

She stared at him, and he looked down, not wanting to see the look in her eyes.

Petr-Agata’s voice was flat, and her scent flickered between jealously, a hint of anger, sadness, and disappointment. “ _Oh. Who?”_

He shifted a little. “ _Doesn’t matter.”_

_“I want to know, Zima. Please.”_

“ _…Liron…”_

Her arms uncrossed, falling sharply to her sides, her voice and scent sharp with disbelief and frustration. “ _Agent Ruskin, the Ice Queen, the woman who rejected you?! You’re saying we won’t work out because you like her? Really?! She rejected you!”_

Zima flinched a little. “ _Agata, please…”_

She crossed her arms again, standing. “ _Tell me you’re joking. Tell me you’re lying. Tell me this is just a cruel game. Please.”_

…he felt terrible. All he could do was keep looking down. He couldn’t lie to her, not about this, and he couldn’t bear looking her in the face.

_“Zima, please.”_

“ _I…I’m not lying.”_

Agata was silent for a long time. Zima still didn’t look up.

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“No you’re not.”_

_“Yes, I am.”_

She laughed, harsh and short. “ _No, you’re not. I understand now. I was just a distraction, something to keep your mind off of her until she gave in to your advances. Either that or she’s controlling you, which would still make you not sorry.”_

He looked up, but said nothing.

Her eyes were hard and sad. “ _I’m right, aren’t I? Please, tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you’re just testing me or something.”_

Zima remained silent, guilt coursing through him.

Agata stared him in the eyes. “ _Tell me! Please! All she’s ever done is hurt you! How could you be…how could…”_ Her voice trailed off. “ _Please.”_

He flinched again at her shouting. “ _Shut up!”_

She stopped, and he looked her right back. “ _I’ve liked her before I liked you. And she did like me, but didn't want to get... involved. And then we met, and it was only because she wanted us to be together.”_

_“So it wasn’t real?”_

_“What wasn’t?”_

_“Us.”_

How did she get that out of…? “ _No, it was real.”_

Agata said no more, and Zima went quiet.

Footsteps laced with Trai-Liron’s scent sounded down the hall…he never had been able to actually hear her footsteps before…

The door opened, and he looked over as Agata tensed. He nodded at Trai-…Liron, and she nodded back.

Agata stepped away, jaw tight, and swept out of the room, knocking into  _Liron_  as she went.

 _Liron_  closed the door. “How did it go?”

“Not good.”

She sat by him, and rubbed his shoulder a little. He looked at her.

“She didn’t deserve that. She's been nothing but kind to me.”

“Do you regret your choice?”

He was quick to dispel that thought; he didn’t want two women upset with him. “No. Just wish she had found out differently.”

Liron’s hand left his shoulder. “How differently could she have found out?”

Zima shrugged. “Maybe…spending too much time away from each other? And then she'd slowly stop liking me? I dunno.”

She sighed a little and ran a hand through her hair. “If...if you would like, I have a way to make that possible.”

“How? It’s already happened.”

“Not if she doesn’t remember it.”

What? …oh. “No, don’t do that.”

She nodded just a bit, seeming glad he hadn’t taken that offer. “As you wish.”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“As I said before, I would not fault you for choosing her.”

Zima sighed heavily. He didn’t know what to do…he may as well say as much. “I don’t know what to do. To be fair, I’ve known her personally longer than you.”

“I know.”

His hands curled into his hair, tugging on the strands, trying to get a grip on himself and his choices. Trainer… _Liron_  sat beside him in silence, patient, waiting, without judgement as far as he could tell.

“You do not have to decide at this moment. You still have time to chase after her if that is what you choose to do. And were I to look at this unbiased, I would recommend that option. As you said, you have known her longer and she has been nothing but kind to you.”

He shook his head. It wasn’t that simple. “But I’ve liked you since…whenever now. I couldn't even stop thinking of you when I was with her...I tried, but I couldn't...”

Her hand closed gently on his shoulder. “I will not force you either way, and there is no deadline.”

“I know.”

Liron squeezed a little, then let go and stood. “I will give you the rest of today to think, and we resume training in the morning.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”


	11. Chapter 11

Zima awoke halfway through the night, and couldn’t get back to sleep. So, due to lack of things to do – Trai-Liron seemed asleep, and he’d heard enough nightmares of hers to know any time she slept peacefully was rare and a blessing, so he couldn’t wake her up for training – he staggered into the shower to think about the choice he had to make.

The water was soothing, and he braced his hands on the tiles, letting it flow over his back as he thought.

After a while, he got out, drying off and dressing back in the pyjamas he was wearing before climbing back in bed. But he still couldn’t sleep.

In the other bed, Tr- _Liron_  shifted slightly, a soft huff sounding with the clink of her handcuff. Zima looked over.

She looked…peaceful, a softness to her face that wasn’t there when she was awake and guarded…and…she looked young. How old was she?

He rolled out of bed as silently as he could, and padded over, not wanting to disturb her, just…wanting to see.

She shifted again, a lock of hair falling out of her braid and into her face. He reached out to move it back, but stopped last minute…he didn’t want to disturb her…but… Zima took the chance, and gently tucked the lock of hair behind her ear, fingers brushing her face.

Liron hummed a little in her sleep, and nuzzled his fingers, something in a language he did not know coming out in a mumble. His brows furrowed a little, and he let the back of his fingers graze against her face again. She almost seemed to let out a little half-purr.

Emboldened by that, Zima stroked her cheek one more time, and smiled when a soft little smile curled Liron’s lips. It was nice to see her like that.

Her eyes fluttered open, then, and she looked up at him, blinking the sleep away.

Zima’s smile faded, and he took away his hand. “Sorry.”

“What for?” Her voice was a little husky, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

“Touching you.”

“No harm was done.”

Her eyes were so blue…he couldn’t help but stare a little.

“Zima?”

Oh, right. “Yeah?”

Liron sat up and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “You know, you’re the first man I’ve ever been attracted to.” Her hand lingered a moment.

Zima looked at her in surprise. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Thought that's just how I was. But then you with your wolf came along.”

He thought on that for a bit. “Is that…bad?”

“Depends on how you look at it.”

Okay? “How do you look at it?”

“It varies from time to time. But mostly...a good thing, even though my training would say bad.” She lowered her hand, and he chased it a little, not wanting for her touch to leave yet.

She stopped, and there was a brief moment of hesitancy in her scent before she seemed to give in to something and leaned up slowly, giving him plenty of time to move away if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to pull away. He wanted to be  _closer_. But…he also didn’t want to rush her; that would only cause problems.

His hand cupped her cheek gently, and her lips parted as she leaned into his hand like a cat, tilting her head up just that last little bit.

Zima couldn’t hold back anymore and just kissed her, deep and as passionately as he could muster. His actions were rewarded beyond his expectations with a soft gasp and a little moan before she kissed back, her hands latching onto his shirt and pulling him closer. His legs knocked against the bedframe, and then Liron shifted a little and her legs were wrapped around his, trapping him to her.

He didn’t mind; he wanted to be trapped, to be even closer than he was now. That…something in his mind that flared up every time Madame harmed her, that something that made him growl, that something that…was more than likely his wolf,  _needed_  this, needed  _more_. A word rushed through his mind…too fast for him to catch what it was even if he had been paying attention.

It was an easy shift of body mass to tumble them down to her bed, him hovering over her, still kissing as deep as he could.

* * *

 

Liron wrapped her arms around her trainee, pulling him fully atop her as something in the back of her mind registered his weight on her as so very  _comfortable_. Maybe that’s what she’d been missing at night, that weight and almost…security. Maybe if she could turn him into a blanket she wouldn’t have to freeze herself? Probably not.

Zima’s kiss somehow managed to deepen further, and if her lips were bruising she did not mind because she was responding just as forcefully. His soft moan sent a thrill through her even to her bones, and his tongue flicking over her lips drew a similar sound from her.

She didn’t really know what she was doing…but she knew enough to do it. Zima however…he knew  _exactly_  what he was doing, and she was more than glad for that. She also probably needed air…

Zima pulled back, his lips red and a little swollen-looking, his hair a mess from her hands and his half-lidded eyes  _begging_  her to drown in them. Liron panted a little, catching her breath.

“Zima…I…”

“Yeah?”

Oh, never mind. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him into another kiss, hungry and rather wolfish. There was a word running through her mind too, and she’d caught a glimpse as she caught her breath. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate…that’s who he was. He was  _hers_ , even if he really wasn’t yet, and though she would not protest too much if he chose Petrova, what had just and was just coming to pass gave her more than a hope of his choice.

Her mate may have been startled at first, but then he sank into the kiss, his weight pressing her deeper into the mattress, and she kissed him as if to devour him.

His moan filled her with a warmth she did not know, and she gripped his hair, wanting to hear that again. Instead she got a soft groan and a wolfish growl.  _Yes…yes._ She growled back, hooking her legs higher up around his hips, tugging his hair again.

Zima growled more, and then suddenly his back tensed up, something more animal in his body language, his wolf seeping into the rest of him like hers did. His scent completely enveloped her, and Liron couldn’t hold back a moan, breaking the kiss to look up at him.

His eyes were nearly glowing, a tinge of silver trickling out from his pupil. Liron licked her lip, the look in his eyes making her melt beneath him even with her own wolf rising to meet him with a challenging snarl.

Those beautiful eyes narrowed a little before he shifted to brace his hands on either side of her head, making himself look bigger. Liron held the snarl, her eyes glinting and gleaming. She’d given him a free pass, but now he needed to prove himself. Outside the walls of this room was no exception. If he wanted to claim her, he had to prove he was worthy even though she already knew he was.

His lips curled into a little smirk, and she grinned ferally.

Zima leaned down and brushed her nose with his before kissing her lips again. Liron kissed back, but there was a different energy to it now. The desperation had passed for the moment, now it was all challenge and show-off. A game. He was her mate without a doubt, but could he enforce the proof of his worth?

His scent reeked with dominance now, and every time she pressed up against him, her pinned her back to the bed, growling and teeth bared. The kiss turned harsh, growls harmonising and tugging lips and teeth clacking against each other, a ‘true’ fight for dominance until Liron bit him. She needed something to drink…and also to use the bathroom.

“Ow!”

Zima sat up quickly, putting a hand to his lip, his fingers coming away a little bloody. His eyes narrowed, the silver in them probably permanently now gleaming again. His hands closed on her shoulders, pushing her back down as his lips latched onto the side of her neck.

“You like biting?” His teeth sunk into her flesh, and Liron shouted, clawing at his back and hair, pleasure warring with pure panic.

“ _Zima stop!”_  Lightning arced from her fingers, shocking him, anything to get him off. It wasn’t time for that. It wasn’t time for that. It wasn’t time for that. Too soon too soon too soon!

He cried out in pain and surprise, falling off of the bed. Liron panted, clapping a hand over her neck as she slipped off the bed as well, watching him from the other side.

“What the hell was that for!?”

Liron kept an eye on him, letting him see exactly the emotions in her face and body. “I bit you ‘cause I needed you to stop ‘cause I need to use the bathroom, and it’s  _way too soon_  for anything like you just did. I can’t…I can’t…” She shook her head. “Don’t bite my neck unless I give you express permission, understand?”

He deflated. “Sorry…I thought…I thought you were doing it for…you know, the wolf thing.”

Liron sighed. “You stay there, I’ll explain what I know regarding that when I get out.”

She stood and headed into the bathroom, closing the door.

Once she was sure it was closed, she leaned on it for a moment, letting her heart rate slow back down to normal. She checked the bite; it wasn’t very deep, at least, and healed it until it wasn’t even a scar. That taken care of, she used the bathroom and got her drink, then went back out.

Zima was sitting on his bed, his hair and clothes all straightened out again. Liron sat across from him on hers. He looked at her.

“Okay, first thing. Don’t bite my neck. Yes, I do like biting, yes, it does have to do with the wolf thing or else I wouldn’t know that, but you haven’t earned it.”

“Earned it?”

“Yes. You saw the challenge, you accepted it. Your wolf knows what’s going on, but since for some reason you and your wolf are separate instead of how I am, I may as well explain. You know what courting is, right? Or like with birds; mating dances and stuff?”

He nodded.

“That’s what the challenge is. You proving you’re worthy to be my mate. Which means both showing an amount of dominance and power, and also respect. It’s a game. You can leave the challenge at any time, but should you choose to go through with it…well, as I said, prove your worth.” She frowned a little. “At least…that’s what my instincts are saying it is.”

Zima nodded again, answering with no hesitation. “I accept it.”

Liron went still, not expecting that. “What?”

“I accept the challenge…”

Her wolf side took over for a moment, and her grin was pleased and feral. “As you wish.”

His brows furrowed, and she chuckled a little.

“I’m going to make it hard for you; and it’s completely up to you to find out what would work to impress me.”

“How hard?”

“Not sure yet.”

Zima nodded. “I will take whatever you throw at me.”

* * *

 

Agata stayed in the hallway outside of the Zima-Ruskin-Romanova room for a while, hoping, waiting for him to come out and say he'd been lying or mistaken, but he didn't. Hang on...Agent Ruskin wasn't supposed to be having any relationships, not like that...Madame needed to know.

It wasn’t hard for her to find the former Black Widow, and she waited until she was noticed before speaking. “ _Madame, I am sorry for intruding, but it is about Agent Ruskin.”_

The older woman frowned a little. “ _What is she doing this time?”_

Agata stood straight and told her story, holding back the sting of tears as she reached the end. Madame frowned more

“ _Even if he has been seduced, she has to call to do so. It seems either way that the little snowflake needs a reminder of who she is.”_

She didn’t move or speak, but she agreed wholeheartedly with that statement. Agent Ruskin introduced them because she didn’t want Zima. She had no right to just change her mind on a whim and against her training.

“ _They are still in her room as far as you know, yes?”_

_“Yes Madame.”_

Madame nodded and tapped her cane on the floor a little. “ _Go get agents suitable for restraining Snowflake’s trainee; he tends to interfere.”_

“ _Yes Madame.”_

Once Agata had collected about three or five strong agents, she re-joined Madame outside of the room. Why was she waiting?

* * *

 

Zima tensed. “Someone’s outside.”

Liron looked up, sniffing the air, before her eyes went wide. “Madame and Petrova. And a few others.”

His eyes widened as well. “What are they doing here?”

She stood, switching to Russian. “ _Probably they found out.”_

He stood as well. “What are you going to do?”

“ _Nothing, unless they go after you. You did nothing wrong; I violated my training.”_

“But…Sir approved of it.”

“ _He did. But they don’t know that, and it would only cause more problems to try to fight back and tell them that. Quicker to just get it over with.”_

“What are they going to do?”

“ _More than likely? Remind me what I am…or am supposed to be.”_

He frowned, not liking this in the slightest. Why couldn’t they just leave them alone?

The door opened, and the group came in. Zima’s hands fisted at his sides.

Liron turned. “ _Madame.”_

The devil-woman pointed her cane at his trainer. “ _I’ve heard you have forgotten who you are, little Snowflake, and are in need of a reminder.”_

Liron said nothing.

“ _Come with me.”_

She opened her mouth to speak and got a cane to the face for her trouble. Zima’s eyes widened, and he moved forward, but Liron waved him down.

“ _I said, come with me.”_

Zima watched as they went, eyes narrowing, then looked away as Agata moved closer.

“ _Zima?”_

He stayed silent, but looked over when she touched his shoulder.

“ _You know she doesn’t actually care about you, right?”_

He looked away.

“ _Zima?”_

“What do you want me to say!?”

Agata jumped at his shout. “ _At least answer my question.”_

“No, I don’t know she doesn’t care, because she does!”

She scoffed, shifting to English, her accent heavy. “She was raised to not.”

Zima stared right at her, eyes hard. “You don’t now her like I do.”

“You don’t know her at all.”

“I know her better than you. You’re only jealous and want me for yourself.”

“She just wants a toy. A pet like she is to Sir.”

A little snarl started at the corner of his lip. “I’m not bet. And she knows that.”

“Does she?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m her  _mate.”_  That was true even if all else wasn’t. He could feel it in his very blood and bones.

Agata stared at him as if he had two heads. “Her  _what_?”

“Mate!”

She kept staring at him. “You’re mad.”

His eyes narrowed, a growl building in the deep of his chest.

“She’s twisted your mind.”

“She has not. She hasn’t even done  _anything_  to me.” Nothing like that at least. He knew it wasn’t in her to do something like that to him.

“You wouldn’t know if she had.”

“I know, because she’s told me nothing but the truth since I came here.” Except the part about her not liking him, but he could excuse that; she’d just been afraid.

“She is a master of deception, Zima. She and Agent Romanova both. Not to mention her mind magic. You’ve read her file, you know this.”

He’d had enough. “I’d appreciate it if you’d leave me alone. I trusted you, and you broke that by telling Madame.”

Zima started to walk out, to look for Liron, but Agata grabbed his arm.

“Zima wait!”

He jerked out of her grip. “What?!”

“I love you.”

What? He blinked, not having expected that in the slightest, but he did not reply, and just turned and kept walking.

“Zima…?! Zima!”

He kept walking.

“James!”

Zima stopped, frowning, and turned back. “What did you just call me?”

Agata moved closer again. “James. That’s your real name.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Do you know that?”

…no, he didn’t, now that he thought about it. But he wasn’t going to trust anything she said now, so…

“Have you read your own file?”

“I haven’t read any files.”

“You’ve read Ruskin’s. Ask her for yours. You'll see.”

He just shook his head and continued walking away, leaving Agata behind in the hallway. He had to find Liron.

Zima searched for not all that long before his ears caught the sound of muffled intermittent screams from one of the interrogation cells. His eyes widened, and he took off running.

The cell door was locked and solid, but it did nothing to hide that particular scent…mixed with blood and pain.

His metal fist banged on the door. “ _Stop hurting her!”_

The only answer was another sharp scream and the smell of blood strengthening.

He banged harder, the door denting just a little. Inside the room, there was a little scuffle, but then the next scream was louder.

“ _Stop!”_

The next scream was cut short, and Zima snapped. His metal hand closed on the door handle, sparking oddly just a little, and it ripped away as if it was paper, clattering into the wall behind him hard enough to leave a mark. It didn’t take much more to slam the door open, almost taking it off the hinges as he burst in. All he could see was rage.

Liron hung by her wrists from two chains in the ceiling, dripping with blood, her head down…but her chest was moving, if in shudders. Madame stood a few feet away, blatant surprise written on her face, and there was a man in a mask closer to Liron, her blood on his clothes. A table of torture instruments, many recently used, stood by the wall, one of them in the masked man’s hand.

Zima’s eyes narrowed to slits, his hands curling into fists as he stalked up to the torturer. The torturer moved back. Madame barked an order, but Zima didn’t hear it and the torturer seem too afraid of  _him_  to obey whatever it was.

He glared daggers at him, forcing him back farther, and when he was close enough, he ripped the chains free. Liron collapsed into his arms with a soft pained whimper, her head landing loosely on his shoulder and her breaths harsh…sounded like she had a few broken ribs at the very least.

Zima’s heart clenched at the sound, and he scooped her up, holding her bridal style, careful not to jostle her too much before he turned to Madame.

“When Sir finds out what you did, you’re going to be sorry you ever touched her!”

He was halfway out the door, heading toward the medical bay when Madame spoke.

“You know very little about how this organization works, Soldier.”

Zima ignored her as he moved as quickly and as smoothly as he could to the medbay. “ _Help me here!”_

A few of the medics looked up, and one of them approached him, a rather exasperated look on his face. “ _Every single time…”_ He trails off into irritated mumbling, and ushers Zima to a private little area.

“ _Put her on the bed.”_

His brows furrowed, but he followed the direction and watched nervously as the medic cleaned her up, cutting away fabric and removing anything that could get stuck in the wounds.

“ _Will she be okay?”_

_“It is a surprise that there is someone other than Agents Romanova, Shoskatov, and Orlov to even ask that question. But yes. I suppose you do not know much about her abilities, do you?”_

“ _No…what did you mean by ‘every single time’?”_

The medic looked at him. “ _Every single time she comes in here…or almost every single time…she looks like this. There is only one time that is logged within the last five years that she’s come in as a patient without being this bad off.”_

Zima’s frown was solemn and angry. “ _It’s Madame. Am I right? It’s her fault.”_

The medic gave him a curious look. “ _…yes. More often than not, yes. Loose cannon, this one.”_ He looked back at Liron. “ _Loose cannon indeed…except when Sir’s involved.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“She listens to him, obeys him…I don’t know if you’re familiar with the rumour mill, but one of the ones floating around for a very long time is that she’s his secret daughter.”_

His eye widened. “ _Really?”_

The medic shrugged a shoulder, washing his hands as a soft blue glow trailed along Liron’s wounds. “ _The genetics don’t match up, and it wouldn’t make him a very good father, but if I didn’t know that, I would believe it.”_

“ _Oh.”_

Liron suddenly started coughing, and Zima was at her side in a moment, gingerly sitting her up and watching in wonder as that blue light danced over her wounds, closing them.

“Hey.”

She coughed a bit more, gripping his sleeve, before she spoke. “ _Why did you do that?”_

“They were hurting you.”

“ _That’s what happens when I break the rules. But…thank you.”_

 _“_ You were following orders, not breaking the rules. I’m telling Sir when I get the chance.”

Liron looked up at him; he looked back. She chewed her lip.

“I’m telling Sir. And you don’t need to worry about being punished. You were following  _his_  orders.”

“Zima…”

“I’m telling him, Liron.”

“I can’t move my arm yet. Get down here.”

What? He leaned down, and promptly proceeded to melt at how gently she kissed him. Oh…he would take her pain himself just to have this always.

Liron pulled back after a moment, and Zima flushed when he remembered that the medic was still standing right there.

The medic himself had his eyes covered, almost like a child. “ _I did not just see that.”_

_“Sir’s fine with it.”_

_“I did not need to just see that.”_

…okay. Zima shrugged and looked back at Liron. “You okay?”

Most of her wounds were healed now, still glowing slightly blue as they finished. “Yeah.”

He beamed and she smiled back, her eyes glittering a little.

“Can you stand? Or should you stay here for a while?”

“I can stand.” She swung her legs over the table and slid to the floor.

He put a hand out to help her steady herself, but it only took a few steps before she was walking solidly again. Zima let go, though as soon as he did he missed the feel of her hand in his.

Liron stood straight. “ _Thank you, Medic._  Thank you, Zima.”

He smiled.

They headed back to the room, and along the way ran into a worried Agent Romanova, who pulled Liron into a tight hug once she was sure no-one would see.

“ _I heard what was happening. Are you alright? What did you do to make Madame mad this time?”_ Her voice was free of judgement, and Zima knew now from just seeing Madame’s actions that the question was less of ‘what did Liron do’ as much as ‘what was Madame mad at’.

Zima – Agata had called him James, hadn’t she? He needed to ask about that. – moved back. “I’m going to go see Sir. You going to be okay?”

Liron nodded a little. “Thank you again.”

He smiled at her, then turned and strode off.

Sir bid him enter as soon as he’d knocked, and stood when he obeyed. “… _Zima. To what do I owe the pleasure?”_

_“It’s about Lir-…Agent Ruskin. I…understand you know about us?”_

_“By the fact that you feel comfortable enough with her to use her given name and she lets you, I would guess I know less than I did not long ago.”_

Uh…Zima shifted a little, then soldiered on, back to what he had come there for. “ _Madame found out about us and... she was torturing L-.... Liron....”_

Sir frowned. “ _Say that again?”_

_“Madame found out and tortured Liron for it. I got her out before they did anything else.”_

_“Did Madame know that Liron was behaving as such as per my orders?”_

_“I don’t know.”_

He came around from behind his desk. “ _Return to Liron. I will speak with Madame.”_

Zima nodded. “ _Yes Sir.”_

Sir nodded back once, then headed for the door and let both of them out.

When Zima returned to the room, he was almost stopped in his tracks by the sight of Liron and Agent Romanova sitting on Liron’s bed, her hair loose and being brushed out and braided by Agent Romanova. …that was a lot more hair than he’d thought she had. Also, she looked like a contented cat…or, more fittingly, a dog or wolf happy to be petted.

After allowing himself a  _brief_  moment of staring, he sat down in front of her. “Sir is going to talk to Madame.”

* * *

 

Liron made a sound of acknowledgement, not wanting to nod in case it would mess up Natalia’s work.

Natalia tied off the braid and Liron opened her eyes.

“ _Thank you, Lisichka.”_

Natalia smiled. “ _You’re welcome.”_

She smiled back, then looked at the man in front of her. “What is it, Zima?”

“Nothing.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“…Okay.” She made a little amused sound, then got up, offering Natalia a hand.

Her partner accepted the help, and stretched a little once she was on her feet again, then proceeded to look between Liron and Zima studiously.

“ _There’s something different about you two.”_

“You didn’t tell her?”

Liron glanced over at Zima. “Haven’t had time.”

“ _Tell me what?”_

Liron looked Natalia right in the eyes, unwilling to risk the chance of being thought joking. “ _Zima is my mate.”_

Natalia’s eyes went wide. “ _I never thought…”_

Liron cocked her head. “ _Thought what?”_

_“You’d actually find one.”_

Ah. Well, it did make sense, considering until very recently everyone thought she was the only one of her ‘kind’ in the world. “ _Neither did I. But then again…I didn’t. Sir found him for me; he’s the only who assigned me to train him.”_

Natalia nodded a little, then pulled Liron into a tight hug. Her voice was very soft when she spoke; just loud enough for Liron alone to hear her. “ _I am happy for you, as you were happy for me when Alexi and I found we had grown to love each other.”_

Liron hugged back just as tight, understanding exactly what she meant. “ _So am I, elskan vinur minn.”_

Natalia hugged a little tighter, and then pulled away. She knew what Liron had said; it was one of the only things in – what after some research they had learned was – Old Norse, and though Liron had offered many times to teach her or just give her the knowledge, she had declined. Liron could not understand why even now.

She smiled a little. “ _Of course, now I have to make it difficult for him to impress me.”_

Her partner chuckled softly, and in the corner of her sight Zima smiled.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Icy Red Rose](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10079795) by [WordStorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordStorm/pseuds/WordStorm)
  * [Love of the Sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10620645) by [WordStorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordStorm/pseuds/WordStorm)
  * [Sanguine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11189913) by [WordStorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordStorm/pseuds/WordStorm)




End file.
